Jf 


0?  C1LIF.  LIB1UBY,  LOS  ANGELES 


the  Smperor's  Wish 


She  was  wonderfully  beautiful. 


the  Gmperor's  Wish 


.    Jff/tloton   and  Company 
7?«u>   2/orJc 

/9OS 


COPYRIGHT,  1905,  BY 
D.  APPLETON  AND   COMPANY 


TO 


THE   REAL   SOICHIS 

Who,   by  tens  and  hundreds  of  thousands,  from  all  the 
corners  of  Dai    Nippon,    great   and   small,    shizoku 
and  heimin,  with  a  simplicity,  a  courage  and  a 
faith  that  may  -well  stand  as  models  for  all 
the  -world,  and  a  passion  of  loyalty  pass- 
ing occidental  understanding,  await 
only    the    occasion    to    demon- 
strate their  glad,  unselfish 
readiness  to   meet  the 
Emperor's   Wish 

O.    K.    D. 


2135076 


Jd'st  of  illustrations 


FACING 
PAGE 


She  was  wonderfully  beautiful  Frontispiece 

Hurled  the  Samurai  boy  bodily  over  his  head  .  44 

He  saw  dimly  a  dark  figure         ....  120 

"Banzai!" 140 


the   Smperor's  Wish 


\AR  out  toward  the  end  of  Lower 
Timber  Street,  where  incurious 
visitors  to  the  city  seldom  stray, 
stands  the  house  of  Kudo  Jukichi. 
It  is  called  Lower  Timber  Street,  the  Upper 
end  being  down  in  the  city  where  once  the 
stout  castle  of  the  Lord  of  the  Clan  was 
the  center  of  all  the  life  of  the  place.  But 
the  name  is  falsely  descriptive,  for  it  leads 
straight  up  to  the  beautiful  hills,  and  ends 
abruptly  in  a  sheer  climb  to  the  top  of  the 


jft  the   Gmperor's  Wish 


pine-clad  cone  where  nestles  a  famous  old 
Shinto  shrine.  The  narrow  path  that  winds 
up  the  steep  hillside  has  been  beaten  smooth 
by  thousands  of  pious  feet.  Below,  curving 
down  in  gentle  slopes,  the  verdure-covered 
hills  ring  in  the  town,  and  beyond  the  bil- 
lowing roofs  of  blue-gray  thatch  and  tile 
stretches  the  shining,  island-dotted  sea,  warm 
and  soft  in  the  enormous  blaze  of  summer. 

To  the  casual  observer  there  is  nothing 
about  the  house  of  Kudo  Jukichi  to  indicate 
the  quality  of  those  who  dwell  within.  A 
dilapidated  fence  of  split  bamboos,  that  once 
was  tall  and  fine,  partly  conceals  the  weather- 
beaten  little  structure  and  partly  reveals  it, 
with  the  tantalizing  indistinctness  of  a  veil 
over  a  beautiful  face.  If  a  curious  stranger 
should  stop  and  peer  through  the  lattice-like 
breaks  in  the  fence  he  would  gaze  upon  wood- 
work grown  soft  and  gray  with  age  and  the 
flagellation  of  rains.  Even  the  tiles  of  the 
roof,  laid  with  a  care  cognizant  of  earthquake 
and  bitter  storm,  seem  to  have  lost  patience 
and  outgrown  their  pride,  and  now  to  await 
only  the  semblance  of  opportunity  to  loose 
their  hold  and  slide  down.  The  shrubs  along 
the  narrow  path  that  leads  from  the  gate  are 


the   Gmperor's  *UJish 


all  unkempt  and  ragged,  and  the  lone  plum- 
tree  that  stands  like  the  ghost  of  a  garden 
sentinel  in  the  corner  of  the  tiny  yard,  touched 
by  the  general  air  of  decay,  struggles  fitfully 
in  the  raw,  cloudy  days  of  spring  to  send  forth 
here  and  there  a  spiritless  blossom.  One  must 
be  to  the  manner  born,  or  carefully  instructed, 
to  detect,  from  the  many  signs  of  ruin  all 
about,  the  single  indication  of  the  state  of  the 
householder.  Such  an  one,  perhaps,  search- 
ing closely  under  the  warped  roof  of  the  gate- 
way, might  find  and  read  the  cedar  ticket 
which  proclaims,  according  to  law,  to  any 
who  trouble  to  stop  and  read,  that  in  this 
house  of  little  ease  lives  Kudo  Jukichi,  a  Gen- 
tleman of  the  Empire. 

Kudo  Jukichi,  Gentleman !  In  the  first  year 
of  Meiji,  when  he  fought  for  the  restoration 
of  the  young  Emperor  to  the  power  that 
rightfully  belonged  to  the  Throne,  he  wore 
the  two  swords  of  a  Samurai.  But  that  was 
long  ago.  Kudo-san  is  an  old  man  now,  and 
thick  gray  hair  covers  the  head  where  once 
rose  the  shining  black  topknot  of  a  warrior. 
He  sits  on  the  soft  mats  of  his  little  room 
with  a  book,  or  his  pipe,  and  often  falls  to 
dreaming  of  the  years  of  his  youth,  of  the 


the   Smperor's   Itfish 


stirring  events  that  threw  down  the  old  estab- 
lished order  and  brought  the  Emperor  again 
to  his  own.  And  if  sometimes  there  comes  to 
him  a  twinge  of  sentimental  regret  for  the 
lost  ways  of  life  of  the  old  regime,  it  is  but 
natural.  It  has  not  been  easy  for  Kudo-san 
to  accept  many  of  the  changes  that  came  with 
the  new  Western  thought.  His  was  not  the 
cast  of  mind  that  accommodates  itself  readily 
to  novel  sensations  and  experiences.  Only  his 
passionate  loyalty  and  devotion  to  the  Em- 
peror enabled  him  to  smother  the  feeling  of 
opposition  within  him,  a  feeling  purely  per- 
sonal and  selfish,  in  his  Japanese  conception, 
and  therefore  not  entitled  to  much  considera- 
tion. Loyalty  with  him  was  something  more 
than  a  mere  sense  of  duty.  It  was  instinctive, 
from  the  heart,  the  very  essence  of  his  nature, 
and  because  of  it  he  bore  without  complaint 
the  heavy  blows  the  new  order  dealt  him. 

The  abolition  of  feudalism  left  him  help- 
less, a  dependant  with  none  on  whom  to  de- 
pend. But  the  reorganization  of  the  army, 
and  the  promotion  of  the  outcast  Etas  to 
citizenship  and  the  proud  opportunity  of 
military  service  dazed  him.  The  distinctive 
privilege  of  Samuraihood,  the  right  to  bear 


the   Gmperor's 


arms,  was  destroyed,  and  after  that  nothing 
worse  could  befall.  The  capitalization  of  his 
hereditary  income  followed  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  he  accepted  with  uncomprehend- 
ing bewilderment  the  bonds  given  him  by 
the  government  he  was  no  longer  to  serve. 
The  fabric  of  his  life  was  crumbling  and  he 
was  powerless  to  stay  its  ruin.  With  hands 
clasped  before  him  and  head  reverently  bowed 
he  stood  in  front  of  his  little  shrine  and  sol- 
emnly communed  with  the  shades  of  the 
Kudos  gone  before.  It  was  a  new  situa- 
tion, and  doubtful  if  they  could  understand. 
But  one  thing  he  knew,  and  in  gentle  voice, 
with  unshaken  faith,  he  announced  it. 

"  It  is  the  Emperor's  wish !  " 

Fate  dealt  neither  vigorously  nor  kindly 
with  Kudo.  It  let  him  drift.  While  his 
bonds  ran  their  income  was  sufficient  for  all 
his  needs,  but  when  the  time  of  their  redemp- 
tion came  he  looked  in  dismay  at  the  heap  of 
money  they  brought  him.  Nothing  in  all  his 
experience  told  him  what  to  do  with  it. 
Skillfully  invested,  it  would  have  furnished 
ample  return,  but  investment  was  a  science 
utterly  beneath  the  contempt  of  a  Samurai. 
It  was  the  business  of  merchants  and  traders, 


jft  the   Gmperor's   llJish 


the  men  who  devoted  their  lives  to  the  des- 
picable profession  of  gaining  money.  He 
took  his  fortune  home,  from  the  bank  where 
it  had  been  paid  to  him,  wrapped  up  in  a  blue 
cotton  bundle-kerchief,  and  gave  it  to  his 
wife  with  the  unconcern  of  complete  scorn. 
He  knew  that  that  bundle  alone  stood  between 
him  and  necessity,  but  he  did  not  care.  He 
lived  contentedly  on  his  little  capital,  nor 
ever  let  an  anxious  thought  cross  his  mind 
because  of  its  constant  decrease. 


II 

JCARCE  two  hundred  yards  distant 
from  the  house  of  Kudo  Jukichi, 
around  the  corner  in  Azalea  Street, 
there  is  a  most  striking  evidence 
of  the  change  the  new  Western  life  has 
brought  to  the  Island  Empire.  The  little 
shingle  at  the  gate  duly  sets  forth  that  Mr. 
Kutami  Chobei,  a  Commoner,  occupies  that 
comfortable  dwelling,  but  all  the  city  knows 
it  as  the  home  of  Chobei,  the  Eta.  Pros- 
perity radiates  from  the  substantial  house  and 
wide  grounds  with  their  pleasant  garden,  and 
all  the  place  is  enfolded  in  its  ample  mantle. 
What  cares  the  Commoner  Kutami  that  his 
humble  station  is  placarded  over  his  hospi- 

7 


8  Jtt  the  Gmperors  Wish 

table  doorway?  But  a  handbreadth  back  in 
the  space  of  years  even  that  poor  title  seemed 
a  measure  of  hopeless  distinction  to  him.  In 
the  yesterday  when  neighbor  Kudo  wore  the 
haughty  swords  of  a  Samurai  his  weapon 
would  have  leaped  from  its  scornful  scab- 
bard if  Chobei  the  Eta  had  dared  pollute  his 
presence.  It  was  a  great  advance  to  be  one 
of  the  multitude  in  the  oblivion  of  the  Com- 
moners instead  of  one  of  the  marked  few  of 
the  Etas,  despised,  outcast,  living  apart  from 
all  his  fellows  except  the  unfortunates  of  his 
class.  It  had  been  a  bitter  life  for  Chobei, 
for  although  his  sheer  force  of  will  had 
made  him  Chief  of  his  village,  a  man  of  dis- 
tinction among  his  own,  that  very  strength 
of  character  made  only  more  keen  and 
poignant  the  disgrace  of  his  position.  The 
wealth  he  had  accumulated  in  his  business 
of  tanner  had  little  pleasure  to  give  him, 
and  it  was  the  business  itself,  inherited  from 
his  fathers,  generation  after  generation,  that 
made  him  an  Eta.  That  great  stroke  of  the 
Emperor's  which  had  shaken  off  the  shackles 
of  his  caste  restored  him  to  manhood,  and  he 
blessed  the  fate  that  had  brought  the  Western 
ideas  to  Japan  and  had  set  noble  and  Samurai 


the   £mperor's 


and  outcast  all  equal  before  the  law,  face  to 
face  together  with  the  problems  of  individual 
responsibilities  and  rewards. 

Money  is  not  yet  everything  in  Japan,  how- 
ever rapidly  its  power  may  be  advancing. 
But  it  is  something  to  the  Commoner  and  it 
was  little  better  than  nothing  to  the  Eta.  Ku- 
tami  was  proud  of  himself,  in  an  humble  way ; 
proud  that  he  had  something  to  do  with  when 
opportunity  to  do  came  to  him.  More  than 
all  he  was  proud  of  the  new  nation,  and  loyal 
to  it  with  the  last  drop  of  his  blood.  He  was 
no  soldier,  but  he  did  his  part  when  the 
forces  of  the  Empire  went  over  sea  to  meet 
the  armies  of  the  Chinese  in  Korea  and  Man- 
churia. The  business  of  his  outcast  days  had 
grown  with  great  strides  under  the  incentive 
of  his  new  ambition,  and  from  being  merely  a 
tanner  and  dealer  in  leather  he  had  become 
as  well  a  manufacturer  of  boots  and  shoes. 
Now  it  was  that  the  money  he  had  won  fur- 
nished the  means  of  making  return  to  the 
nation,  and  thousands  of  soldiers  marched 
and  fought  in  the  boots  Kutami  the  Com- 
moner gave  to  his  country. 

There  was  no  thought  in  Kutami's  heart  of 
anything  but  loyalty  and  gratitude  to  his 
2 


10  jft  the  Gmporor's  Wish 

Emperor  in  this,  but  there  was  a  result  he  did 
not  foresee.  Kudo  Jukichi  had  been  shaken 
out  of  his  retirement  by  the  war.  All  the  old 
fire  was  revived  in  him,  and  his  heart  was 
heavy  because  he  was  neither  able  to  offer 
service  himself  nor  was  his  son  old  enough 
to  take  a  soldier's  part.  In  spite  of  the  fact 
that  they  had  lived  for  years  at  so  little  dis- 
tance from  each  other,  for  Kudo  it  was  as  if 
Kutami  had  never  existed.  For  though  he 
might  admit  that  there  was  advantage  to 
the  nation  in  some  of  the  great  changes  of 
his  later  years,  Jukichi  was  still  at  heart  the 
Samurai  of  the  old  regime,  and  to  him 
Chobei  was  still  an  Eta.  But  the  gift  of  the 
boots  touched  his  heart. 

"  Some  men  are  called  Samurai  in  name, 
but  are  outcasts  at  heart,"  he  thought.  "  That 
man  was  called  outcast  but  has  acted  like  a 
Samurai." 

Straightway  he  put  on  his  finest  silk  ki- 
mono and  stalking  out  of  his  gate  turned 
the  corner  into  Azalea  Street.  There  was  a 
flutter  of  excitement  in  the  house  of  the 
Commoner  when  it  was  known  that  Kudo 
Jukichi  had  come  to  call.  This  was  an  honor 
that  had  been  beyond  their  dreams.  For, 


the   Smperor's  Wish  II 

although  there  had  never  been  a  word  be- 
tween the  two  families,  well  the  Commoners 
knew  their  gentle  neighbors,  and  it  was  not 
without  a  secret  sympathy  that  Chobei  had 
noticed  the  evidence  of  hard  and  harder 
fortune  which  increasing  days  brought  to  the 
Samurai.  The  situation  of  the  Kudos  had 
become,  indeed,  very  much  straitened.  Ju- 
kichi  had  contrived  to  sell  a  few  of  the  treas- 
ures of  art  that  had  been  for  generations 
in  the  family.  But  his  was  no  nature  for 
bargaining,  and  kakemono  and  vases  that 
were  priceless  to  genuine  collectors  had  gone 
for  the  song  the  first  unscrupulous  dealer  had 
offered.  Valiant  soldier  and  skillful  swords- 
man that  he  had  been,  the  Samurai  was  inept 
in  the  rough-and-tumble  scramble  for  ex- 
istence, and  Chobei  gladly  would  have  made 
his  sympathy  practical  if  he  had  but  known 
how. 

It  was  truly  a  wonderful  event  for  the 
Commoner  when  Jukichi  voluntarily  came  to 
visit  him.  O-Koyo,  his  wife,  herself  flut- 
tered into  the  room  where  the  distinguished 
guest  was  sitting  on  the  soft,  white  mat,  and 
brought  him  tea,  that  fine  long  leaf  with  the 
heavy  flavor  of  the  straw  mats  that  had  kept 


12  rft  the   Gmperor's   Wish 

it  always  from  the  sun,  so  delightful  to  the 
taste  of  the  Japanese  connoisseur.  Though  it 
was  the  house  of  a  man  possessed  of  much 
wealth,  there  was  no  display  of  riches,  except 
in  the  exquisite  fineness  of  the  wood,  the 
beautiful  grain  carefully  brought  out  in  the 
soft  polish  and  matched  with  an  evenness 
and  skill  that  betokened  unusual  pains  and 
thought.  In  the  alcove  of  the  room  where 
Jukichi  sat  hung  a  single  old  kakemono  of 
rare  merit,  and  the  signature  that  caught  his 
eye  told  him  at  once  of  its  great  value.  Be- 
neath it  stood  a  vase  of  the  famous  ware  that 
had  long  distinguished  the  old  artists  of  his 
clan,  and  in  it  a  single  spray  of  blossoms.  It 
was  in  perfect  taste,  and  the  old  Samurai,  as 
he  sat  down,  felt  a  little  glow  of  satisfaction, 
as  if  he  had  come  back  at  last  to  the  realities 
of  the  days  before  the  inrush  of  Western 
innovation  had  done  so  much  to  cheapen  and 
make  vulgar  all  that  it  touched  of  the  island 
art. 

The  simple  directness  of  his  character  had 
not  been  changed  by  his  years  of  vicissitude. 
The  formalities  of  greeting  were  hardly  ended 
when  Jukichi  plunged  into  the  matter  that 
had  brought  about  his  visit. 


the   Gmperor's  WtsA  13 

"  I  have  heard,"  he  said,  "  that  you  have 
made  a  great  gift  to  the  army." 

A  deprecatory  smile  crossed  the  face  of  the 
Commoner  and  he  bowed  very  low. 

"Ah,  it  was  nothing,"  he  replied,  politely 
belittling  what  he  had  done.  "  It  was  only  a 
few  boots  for  the  soldiers,  who  are  worthy  of 
very  much  more  than  one  so  humble  as  I  can 
do  for  them." 

"  Nevertheless  it  is  a  fine  thing  to  do," 
declared  Jukichi,  and  for  an  instant  there 
flashed  in  his  eyes  something  of  the  old 
fire.  "  It  is  a  fine  thing  for  one  who  is 
not  a  soldier  to  give  so  much  to  the 
army." 

Again  Kutami  bowed  very  low,  and  softly 
protested  the  trifling  character  of  his  act. 

"  I  have  heard  that  it  was  an  entire  division 
that  you  supplied,"  continued  Jukichi.  "  I 
congratulate  you.  It  is  a  very  fortunate 
thing  to  be  able  to  do  so  much  for  the  Em- 
peror." 

Lower  than  ever  Kutami  bowed  and  for 
some  time  his  head  remained  bent  forward. 
At  length  he  raised  it  and  looked  the  old 
Samurai  in  the  face. 

"  It  was  nothing  at  all,"  he  said  in  a  low 


14  Jf*  the   Gmporor's  Wish 

voice,  "  nothing  at  all.  And  the  Emperor  has 
done  everything  for  me." 

He  wondered  what  Jukichi  would  do  or  say 
to  such  direct  reference  to  his  former  condi- 
tion, but  loyalty  knew  no  finer  quality  in  the 
heart  of  the  Samurai  than  it  found  in  the 
breast  of  the  Commoner,  and  though  he  in- 
sulted his  honored  guest,  or  died  for  it  on  the 
instant,  Kutami  would  not  have  withheld  that 
acknowledgment  to  his  Sovereign.  And  in 
making  it  he  touched  the  deepest  chord  in  the 
Samurai's  nature. 

"  I  cannot  be  a  soldier  myself,"  the  Com- 
moner went  on,  after  a  little,  "  and  my  son 
is  not  old  enough  to  take  my  place.  But  the 
Empire  has  given  me  a  great  deal,  and  I  am 
very  glad  that  I  can  give  a  little  something 
to  the  sons  of  others  who  offer  their  lives 
for  it." 

"  I,  too,  cannot  be  a  soldier  now,"  said 
Jukichi  slowly,  after  a  pause,  "  although  in 
other  years  it  was  my  duty  and  my  privilege. 
And  I,  too,  have  a  son  too  young  to  be  of 
service  in  this  war.  But  he  shall  be  a  soldier 
some  day,  and,  if  Heaven  please,  an  officer 
of  the  Emperor." 

The  ring  of  the  old  clan  pride  was  in  the 


the  Gmperor's  Wish 


voice  and  the  eyes  flashed  as  if  the  father 
already  saw  the  boy  leading  his  men  in  the 
swinging  charge. 

"  You  are  indeed  fortunate,"  said  Kutami 
gravely ;  "  it  is  a  great  honor  to  have  such  a 
son,  and  it  is  but  fitting  that  the  son  of  such  a 
father  should  become  an  officer."  Again  the 
deprecatory  smile  crossed  his  face  as  he  con- 
tinued :  "  But  it  is  not  for  my  son  to  think  of 
so  glorious  a  future.  He  shall  do  his  duty 
when  the  time  comes,  and  serve  his  country 
as  best  he  can,  but  after  that  I  am  afraid  we 
could  not  hope  to  attain  such  honor  as  it 
would  be  to  have  him  continue  in  the  army." 

It  was  Jukichi's  turn  to  bow  and  smile  in 
deprecation.  Then  he  rose  to  take  his  leave, 
and  when  Kutami  had  thanked  him  for  the 
great  honor  he  had  conferred  upon  that  poor 
house,  he  went  away  with  a  satisfaction  in  his 
heart  he  did  not  attempt  to  explain. 


Ill 

lUKICHI'S  son  was  a  fine,  sturdy 
lad  who  already  in  the  public 
school  was  laying  a  solid  foun- 
dation for  the  technical  training 
which  later  was  to  fit  him  for  an  army  career. 
He  did  not  belie  his  inheritance.  His  mili- 
tary instinct  manifested  itself  in  the  ease 
with  which  he  excelled  his  mates  in  the  mar- 
tial exercises  that  formed  part  of  his  school 
duties.  Often,  too,  it  was  revealed  in  his 
proud  bearing  toward  his  fellows.  Ambition 
found  large  room  in  his  small  breast,  and  it 
was  his  determination  to  rival  and  even  excel 
16 


Jft  the   Gmperor's  Wish  I  7 

the  exploits  and  skill  of  that  great  ancestor, 
Kokan,  whose  name  he  bore.  Jukichi  had 
begun  his  instruction  in  swordsmanship  early, 
and  often  the  old  Masamune  blade,  that  had 
been  the  pride  of  the  Kudos  for  generations, 
was  brought  out  to  take  its  part  in  the  les- 
sons. At  fourteen  Kokan  was  captain  of  a 
company  of  his  schoolmates,  and  the  stuff 
that  was  in  him  showed  in  his  grief  that  his 
years  unfitted  him  to  bear  a  soldier's  part  in 
the  war  with  China. 

But  the  disappointment  did  not  warp  him. 
Rather  it  tended  to  confirm  his  ambition. 
And  if  he  had  needed  a  spur  he  would  have 
found  it  in  the  boundless  pride  in  him  dis- 
played by  his  sister,  who  was  the  playfellow 
of  his  home.  O-Mitsu-san  was  four  years  his 
junior.  As  long  as  she  could  remember, 
from  the  days  when  she  first  toddled  out  into 
the  yard  on  her  small  getas,  and  robed  in  the 
wonderful  kimono,  gay  with  bright  butter- 
flies, the  days  of  her  life  had  been  devoted  to 
adoration  of  her  brother.  To  her  he  was 
everything  that  was  fine  and  noble,  and  his 
imperious  spirit  received  as  its  just  due  the 
deferential  homage  she  paid  to  his  years  and 
his  sex.  She  was  little  more  than  a  baby,  in 


1 8  Jft  the   Gmperor's  Wish 

the  Western  conception,  when  O-Haru,  the 
gentle  mother,  went  away  on  the  long  jour- 
ney to  the  Meido  and  left  the  house  of 
Jukichi  desolate,  and  it  fell  to  her  to  take 
her  mother's  place  in  the  management  of  the 
household  and  the  anxious  care  of  the  slen- 
der, steadily  diminishing  means  of  support. 

"  Though  the  eagle  be  starving,  yet  will  he 
not  eat  grain/'  say  the  Japanese,  and  Jukichi 
fulfilled  the  saying.  No  one  saw  better  than 
he  the  inevitable  end  of  the  course  he  was 
pursuing.  No  one  felt  more  than  he  the  need 
of  doing  something  to  secure  an  income. 
Kokan  would  soon  finish  with  the  public 
schools,  and  before  he  would  be  sufficiently 
far  advanced  to  enter  one  of  the  Local  Mili- 
tary Preparatory  Schools  he  must  have  some 
years  of  higher  instruction,  which  no  school 
in  the  city  was  fitted  to  give.  The  only  means 
of  possible  relief  that  presented  itself  to 
Jukichi's  prejudiced  view  was  some  sort  of 
trade,  a  vile  bargaining  and  selling  for  the 
sake  of  gaining  the  money  which  all  his  life 
he  had  despised.  Moreover,  he  knew  that 
he  was  unfitted  by  training  as  well  as  by 
nature  for  such  work.  The  simple  honesty  of 
the  old  soldier,  to  whom  death  was  a  small 


the  Gmperor's  Wish  19 

price  to  pay  for  honor,  was  no  match  for  the 
unscrupulous  cleverness  of  men  whose  native 
sharpness  had  been  developed  by  years  of 
practice  in  a  profession  from  which  nothing 
else  was  expected.  And  so  Jukichi  drifted  on. 
Between  O-Haru  and  Jukichi  there  had 
existed  a  serene  sweetness  and  depth  of 
love  such  as  seems  impossible  to  the  West- 
ern world,  unused  to  the  Japanese  way,  where 
marriages  are  so  often  matters  of  arrange- 
ment rather  than  sentiment.  Perhaps  it  was 
the  recollection  of  what  she  had  been  to  him, 
and  the  profound  sense  of  his  loss,  that  kept 
Jukichi  a  widower.  But  the  death  of  her 
mother  brought  some  recompense  to  the  little 
girl  in  the  transfer  to  her  of  much  of  the 
calm  and  confident  affection  which  had  been 
O-Haru's  happiness.  More  and  more  her 
father  grew  to  depend  on  her  in  many  matters 
in  which  he  had  followed  the  guidance  of 
her  mother,  and  there  developed  in  her  a 
judgment  and  self-reliance  not  often  found  in 
one  of  her  years.  While  yet  a  child  in  age 
she  was  a  woman  in  character.  Not  much  of 
her  time  was  spent  in  school,  yet  her  instruc- 
tion was  not  scanty  for  a  Japanese  girl.  Most 
of  it  had  been  given  by  her  father,  whose 


20  Jf>  tho   Gmperors  Wish 

mode  of  life  left  him  ample  leisure  for  her 
lessons.  She  read  well  and  she  had  the  books 
of  the  Bunko  that  had  been  her  mother's.  Of 
this  "  Japanese  Lady's  Library "  she  was 
diligently  studious,  and  already  had  attained 
familiarity  with  "  Woman's  Household  In- 
struction," and  the  "  Lesser  Learning  for 
Woman,"  and  was  intent  upon  the  main  part 
of  the  work,  the  profound  "  Greater  Learn- 
ing." Besides,  she  knew  the  "  Hundred 
Poems,"  and  often  joined  with  her  father  and 
brother  in  an  evening  game  of  quotations. 
There  was  little  interruption  of  the  quiet  cur- 
rent of  the  family  life,  and  Jukichi  loved  to 
put  aside  pipe  or  book,  when  no  visitor  had 
come,  and  play  thus  with  his  children.  But 
neither  he  nor  Kokan  ever  gave  a  thought  to 
the  future  of  the  girl,  or  noticed  the  promise 
she  gave  of  beautiful  womanhood. 

She  was  a  lonely  child  for  one  so  bright 
and  winning.  Her  friends  were  very  few, 
not  because  of  her  condition,  for  poverty  is  all 
too  common  in  Japan  to  be  disgraceful,  and 
many  families  of  great  rank  have  known  its 
bitter  pinch.  It  was  rather  because  of  a 
gentle,  instinctive  shyness  that  made  her  re- 
coil from  the  often  boisterous  gayety  of  her 


the   Gmperor's  Wish  21 

schoolmates.  But  one  there  was  who  held 
large  place  in  her  childish  esteem.  It  was  a 
friendship  that  began  with  her  schooling. 
Her  father  had  taken  her  to  the  school  that 
first  day,  for  Kokan  had  finished  the  primary 
grades  and  went  to  a  different  school  in  an- 
other part  of  the  city.  The  master  was  a 
large,  stern  man,  with  solemn,  forbidding 
face,  and  O-Mitsu-san  was  filled  with  fear. 
He  took  her  into  a  great  barren  room,  filled 
with  hard,  high  benches  where  sat  a  multitude 
of  other  little  boys  and  girls.  He  showed  her 
a  bench  and  told  her  to  sit  down,  and  when 
she  took  her  place,  the  other  children  looked 
at  her  and  whispered  together  and  laughed. 
She  was  frightened,  and  presently,  when  the 
master,  with  a  big  whip  in  his  hand,  called 
her  name  in  a  loud  voice,  she  put  her  head 
down  on  her  hands  and  sobbed  with  fear. 
Then  the  other  children  laughed  more  and 
the  master  commanded  silence  in  a  voice  that 
terrified  her.  She  was  very  miserable  and 
wished  only  to  get  away  from  that  dreadful 
place  and  to  go  home  again.  By  and  by 
a  bell  rang,  and  all  the  children  stood  up  and 
went  out.  But  one  little  boy  came  to  her 
and  said  shyly: 


22  j{t  the   Gmperor's  Wish 

"  Don't  cry,  little  girl.     Come  and  play." 

After  a  time,  when  she  had  ceased  to  sob, 
she  looked  up  into  his  round  face  and  said : 

"What  is  your  name,  boy  ?  " 

The  boy  smiled  and  answered: 

"  Soichi.    Come  and  play." 

Then  they  went  out  and  played,  and  by  and 
by,  when  it  was  time  to  go  home,  the  little  boy 
walked  along  with  her  and  she  was  glad.  His 
home  was  just  around  the  corner  from  hers, 
in  the  fine  big  house  in  Azalea  Street.  He 
was  a  funny  boy,  for  he  asked  her  not  to  tell 
her  father  that  she  had  played  with  him,  or 
that  he  had  walked  part  way  home  with  her. 
When  she  asked  him  why,  he  would  not  tell, 
but  said  that  some  day  she  would  find  out, 
and  that  would  be  time  enough  to  tell  if  she 
wanted  to.  Poor  little  Soichi !  Already  the 
boy  was  learning  the  hard  lesson  that  old  dis- 
grace, however  unmerited,  cannot  be  put  aside 
lightly,  even  by  law,  and  the  wise  young  head 
knew  that  the  child  of  the  Eta  was  no  play- 
mate, in  his  world's  eyes,  for  the  daughter  of 
a  Samurai. 

O-Mitsu  cared  not  at  all  then.  She  knew 
only  that  he  had  been  kind  to  her  in  her 
wretchedness,  and  she  liked  him  loyally  for 


the   Cmperor's  Wish 


that,  and  loyally,  too,  she  kept  her  promise  not 
to  tell.  So  they  met  at  school  and  played, 
sometimes  with  other  children  but  often  by 
themselves.  Thus  several  happy  months  went 
by  and  then  O-Mitsu  got  her  first  great  lesson 
in  the  new  life  of  the  nation.  She  found  out 
about  Soichi.  There  were  plenty  of  children 
to  tell  when  it  seemed  there  was  a  chance  of 
causing  pain,  for  the  Japanese  child  has  no 
less  a  barbarian  heart  than  many  who 
live  in  the  Western  world.  The  little  girl  was 
greatly  troubled.  She  liked  the  boy  and  en- 
joyed the  games  with  him.  But  the  daughter 
of  a  Samurai  knew  her  position.  She  had 
learned  now  that  the  stern  looks  of  the  master 
masked  a  kindly  heart,  and  her  first  fear  of 
him  was  gone.  To  him  she  went  in  her  per- 
plexity. 

"Why  is  it,"  she  asked,  "that  the  Eta 
boy  comes  to  this  school?  Are  not  Etas  out- 
casts ?  " 

The  wise  teacher  smiled  gently  and  said  : 

"  That  was  true,  O-Mitsu-san,  but  it  is  not 
so  now.  Did  you  not  know  that  the  Emperor 
has  promoted  them,  and  given  them  the  same 
rights  as  all  the  rest  of  us  ?  " 

"  Then  are  they  like  us  now  ?  "  she  asked. 


24  J#  the   Gmperor's  Wish 

"  Yes,  child,"  replied  the  teacher  softly,  for 
he,  too,  was  a  Samurai  and  knew  what  was 
in  the  heart  of  his  little  questioner,  "  and  be- 
cause it  is  the  Emperor's  will  they  must  no 
longer  be  treated  as  they  were." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  O-Mitsu  shortly,  and 
went  out  into  the  yard  to  join  the  game  in 
which  Soichi  had  a  part. 

But  when  school  was  over  and  Soichi  was 
walking  toward  home  with  her  she  kept  silent 
for  a  long  time.  At  length,  raising  her  eyes 
and  looking  at  him,  she  said : 

"  I  know  why  now,  Soichi." 

At  once  the  boy  stopped.  The  training  of 
bitter  experience  prepared  him  to  hear  her 
proudly  scornful  decision.  But  when  she  was 
silent  he  dared  at  length  to  ask : 

"  Why  do  you  not  say  it  ?  " 

But  she  smiled  and  answered: 

"  I  do  not  care,  and  I  will  not  tell.  Teacher 
says  it  is  right  because  the  Emperor  did  it. 
Come,  let  us  go  home." 


IV 

UTAMI  the  Commoner  was  fat  and 
jolly.  He  lived  well  and  put 
trouble  behind  him  whenever  it 
showed  its  ugly  head.  He  liked 
to  talk  and  smoke  and  visit  with  the  friends 
who  came  often  to  his  comfortable  house  to 
enjoy  his  hospitality.  For  though  among  the 
Samurai  and  the  gently  born  the  old  prejudice 
against  the  Etas  was  far  from  extinction, 
among  the  Commoners  there  was  little  incli- 
nation to  supercilious  remembrance,  especially 
when  one  had  been  so  successful  as  Kutami. 
The  visit  of  Jukichi  to  his  house  had  had  a 
3  25 


26  jft  the   Gmperor's   Wish 

marked  effect.  Often  since  that  memorable 
afternoon  the  wagging  tongues  of  Kutami's 
friends  had  discussed  the  proud  old  man  and 
his  hard  situation.  Many  a  suggestion  was 
made  as  to  how  it  might  be  improved,  but 
none  which  it  seemed  likely  he  would  accept. 
The  generous  impulses  of  his  admirers  were 
barred  by  the  stubborn  pride  they  were  not 
willing  to  encounter. 

Life  in  many  of  its  details  is  not  so  different 
in  Japanese  cities  to  what  it  is  in  the  Western 
world.  Neighbors  gossip  just  the  same,  and 
pry  out  secrets  and  imagine  motives  just  as 
they  do  among  Occidentals,  and  just  as  often 
hit  the  mark.  They  knew  Jukichi's  ambition 
'for  Kokan,  and  how  more  and  more  doubtful 
of  fulfillment  it  was  becoming. 

"  How  foolish  he  is !  "  said  Komatsu,  the 
cloth  merchant,  one  evening  when  the  subject 
had  been  discussed  for  the  fortieth  time. 
"  With  what  he  had  from  his  pension  he  might 
have  done  many  things,  and  been  as  rich  now, 
perhaps,  as  Chobei  here,  who  does  not  know 
what  to  do  with  his  wealth." 

"  A  curio  shop,  for  instance,"  said  Uchida, 
the  ivory  carver ;  "  many  Samurai  have  done 
that,  and  with  his  knowledge  of  such  things 


the   €mperor's   Wish  2? 


and  his  friends  to  help  him  get  them,  or  to 
buy  from,  he  might  have  made  a  great  suc- 
cess." 

"  But  instead  of  that  he  has  only  sold  some 
of  his  own  things  for  a  child's  price,  and 
grows  poorer  every  day  !  "  Komatsu  seemed 
as  near  to  being  disgusted  as  was  possible  for 
his  good  nature. 

"  How  little  you  know  him  after  all,"  said 
one  of  the  group  who  until  now  had  taken  no 
part  in  the  gossip.  It  was  Matsumoto,  a 
Samurai  who  had  made  his  way  in  the  very 
fashion  outlined  by  Uchida,  and  whose  adver- 
tisement, proclaiming  his  rank,  is  thrust  into 
the  hand  of  every  foreigner  who  steps  ashore 
at  a  Japanese  port.  But  he  had  the  native 
genius  for  trade  as  well  as  the  insight  into 
character  which  told  him  how  utterly  lacking 
it  was  in  Jukichi.  "  He  could  never  be  a  mer- 
chant," Matsumoto  continued.  "  The  world 
is  just  what  a  man's  heart  makes  it.  Kudo- 
san  would  find  only  misery  and  hatred  in  be- 
coming a  trader,  and  would  fail  before  he  had 
thoroughly  begun." 

"Ah,  that  is  true,"  cried  Chobei,  "that  is 
quite  the  truth.  I  do  not  know  what  he  could 
do." 


28  Jft  Me  Gmperor's  Wish 

11  That  is  plain,"  replied  Matsumoto.  "  He 
was  a  great  swordsman  in  his  day  and  has  a 
fine  reputation.  He  could  give  fencing  les- 
sons. He  has  taught  his  son,  who  already  ex- 
cels the  other  boys  in  school.  Let  him  teach 
the  sons  of  others." 

That  was  a  practical  suggestion  of  which 
all  felt  the  force.  But  the  real  difficulty  lay 
in  approaching  Jukichi.  There  was  plenty  of 
talk  about  that,  but  the  gossips  went  away 
without  having  reached  a  conclusion.  A  long 
time  after  his  friends  had  gone  Chobei  sat 
with  his  little  pipe,  in  deep  consideration  of 
the  subject.  In  his  abstraction  he  rapped  so 
hard  on  the  hibachi,  knocking  out  the  ashes, 
that  O-Koyo  came  into  the  room  to  see  what 
was  the  matter.  There  had  never  been  many 
secrets  between  them,  and  now  Chobei  looked 
up  and  began  at  once  to  speak  of  the  problem 
that  was  perplexing  him. 

"  You  know  I  have  long  been  desirous  of 
assisting  Kudo-san,"  he  said,  "  but  have  not 
understood  the  means  to  be  employed.  To- 
night Matsumoto-san  has  given  me  an  idea. 
It  is  that  he  can  teach  fencing;  but  how  shall 
we  get  him  the  pupils  without  his  suspecting 
that  we  do  it  to  help  him  ?  " 


the  Gmporor's  Wish  29 


"We  have  one/'  replied  O-Koyo.  "We 
could  ask  him  as  a  favor  to  teach  our  son." 

"No,  no,"  said  Chobei,  at  once.  "That 
would  not  do  at  all,  for  I  have  told  him  that 
Soichi  is  not  to  be  a  soldier,  and  he  knows 
our  son  has  no  need  of  fencing." 

"Well,  then,"  said  O-Koyo,  "I  do  not 
know  what  to  do.  It  seems  to  me  that  he  is  a 
very  foolishly  proud  old  man." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  replied  Chobei,  "  but  he  is  one 
of  those  who  belong  to  the  old  Empire  and 
he  cannot  change.  It  is  very  strange  and 
very  hard." 

"  Hardest  for  his  son,"  said  O-Koyo. 
"  How  can  that  boy  become  an  officer  of  the 
army  without  education,  and  how  can  Kudo- 
san  give  it  to  him?  There  is  no  school  here 
and  he  cannot  send  the  boy  away." 

As  he  listened  to  his  wife  speaking  these 
words  a  new  light  dawned  upon  Chobei.  He 
saw  the  way. 

"  We  must  make  that  school,"  he  ex- 
claimed, and  drew  in  his  breath  so  hard  that 
it  whistled  through  his  teeth.  "  We  will 
found  a  new  one  to  fit  boys  for  the  Military 
Preparatory  Schools,  and  Kokan  shall  have 
his  education.  Yes,  yes!  That  is  what  we 


3O  jft  the  Gmperor's  Wish 

must  do!  There  shall  be  a  place  for  Kudo- 
san.  I  will  ask  him  myself.  It  will  be  a 
great  honor  to  us  if  he  will  teach  the  fencing 
and  swordsmanship.  Then  when  his  son 
must  go  away  he  will  have  something  to  meet 
the  expense." 

So  the  idea  was  born.  There  followed 
much  thought  and  talk  among  Chobei's 
friends,  and  one  day  the  local  newspapers 
announced  that  the  authorities  had  given  per- 
mission to  Mr.  Kutami  Chobei  to  establish  a 
new  school,  which  the  founder  agreed  to 
maintain.  It  would  be  the  link  between  the 
existing  institutions  of  the  city  and  those  of 
the  central  Government.  The  courses  were 
to  be  general,  but  there  was  to  be  special 
instruction  for  such  boys  as  desired  to  fit 
themselves  to  enter  any  one  of  the  six  Gov- 
ernment Local  Military  Preparatory  Schools 
with  a  view  to  competing  for  a  commission 
in  the  army. 

It  was  the  shrewd  Matsumoto  who  had 
suggested  this  method  of  bringing  the  new 
school  to  the  notice  of  Jukichi,  and  his  read- 
ing of  the  old  man's  character  was  not  at 
fault.  Not  a  hint  of  the  personal  oppor- 
tunity offered  came  to  the  Samurai  as  he  read 


Jft  the   Gmperor's  Wish  31 

the  news  in  his  paper.  To  him  it  was  only 
another  evidence  of  the  patriotism  of  his 
neighbor,  and  he  was  about  to  set  out  on  a 
second  visit  of  congratulation,  when  a  mes- 
senger brought  a  letter  from  Chobei.  It  was 
a  very  humble  letter,  as  befitted  the  circum- 
stance of  a  promoted  Eta  writing  to  a  Sa- 
murai. The  Commoner  hoped  that  Kudo- 
san  had  heard  of  the  projected  school  and 
that  it  would  meet  with  his  approbation. 
There  were  some  matters  concerning  its  ad- 
ministration and  the  courses  of  study  to  be 
provided,  about  which  it  would  be  a  distin- 
guished honor  to  him  to  consult  with  Kudo- 
san,  and  in  view  of  the  previous  marked 
kindness,  he  dared  to  beg  the  condescension 
of  an  appointment.  The  advice  of  Kudo-san 
would  be  a  very  material  assistance  as  well 
as  a  great  honor. 

Jukichi  thrust  the  letter  into  the  sleeve  of 
his  kimono  and  stalked  around  the  corner  into 
Azalea  Street.  There  was  a  smile  on  Kuta- 
mi's  face  when  he  saw  how  his  bait  had  been 
swallowed,  and  he  silently  blessed  Matsumoto 
for  his  inspiration. 

"  It  is  a  great  presumption  for  such  as  I," 
he  said  when  the  tea  had  been  brought  and 


32  Jft  the  Gmporor's  Wish 

Jukichi's  first  congratulations  were  offered, 
"to  think  of  undertaking  such  a  work.  No 
doubt  it  would  have  been  better  if  some  gen- 
tleman had  been  willing  to  do  it.  But,  as  it 
is,  I  am  glad  to  have  the  opportunity.  I  have 
observed  for  some  time,  and  with  much  re- 
gret, that  many  of  the  young  men  of  the  city 
have  been  obliged  to  go  away  to  complete 
their  preparatory  education,  especially  those 
who  mean  to  enter  the  army,  and  I  hope  this 
school  will  be  able  to  remedy  that  fault." 

Jukichi  bowed  in  his  courtly  fashion  and 
paused  respectfully  before  replying. 

"  It  is  an  honor  to  the  city,"  he  said  at 
length,  "  to  have  so  public-spirited  a  citizen." 

With  profoundest  salute  Kutami  acknowl- 
edged the  compliment  and  protested  his  un- 
worthiness. 

"  There  is  very  much  to  do,"  he  said 
slowly,  "  and  I  am  poorly  fitted  to  make  sug- 
gestions. I  hope  you  will  not  believe  me  rude 
or  unthinking  if  I  venture  to  tell  you  it  has 
been  suggested  to  me  that  perhaps  you  your- 
self would  be  willing  to  help." 

The  trial  was  made,  and  Kutami  sat  with 
narrowing  eyes,  watching  his  visitor  to  note 
the  effect.  For  a  moment  or  two  Jukichi  sat 


the   Emperor's  Wish  33 


perfectly  still,  with  face  completely  masking 
his  feelings.  Then  he  bowed  deeply,  with 
strong  sibilant  inspiration. 

"  I  ?  "  he  said,  with  show  of  surprise.  "  It 
is  an  unexpected  honor.  I  am  quite  un- 
worthy to  assist  in  so  valuable  a  work.  I  do 
not  know  what  I  could  do." 

The  Commoner  breathed  more  freely.  He 
had  dreaded  a  fiery  outburst  from  the  hot- 
tempered  old  man,  and  when  it  did  not  come 
he  could  hardly  conceal  his  relief.  He  felt 
that  Jukichi's  cooperation  was  more  than 
half  promised  when  it  was  not  at  once  indig- 
nantly refused. 

"  Who  in  the  city  could  do  more  ?  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Who  could  confer  such  honor 
upon  so  humble  an  undertaking  ?  " 

Jukichi  did  not  reply.  Since  the  day  when 
he  saw  the  struggle  for  the  Restoration  suc- 
cessful, the  old  man,  still  clinging  fondly  to 
the  life  of  the  old  regime,  had  been  never- 
theless drifting  unconsciously  toward  par- 
ticipation in  the  new.  But  he  was  yet  far 
from  open  avowal,  and  the  proposition  of 
Kutami  came  to  him  with  a  shock.  He  saw, 
however,  that  he  had  opened  the  way  for  it 
himself,  and  merely  asked  to  be  excused  from 


34  •*>  ***  Gmporor's  Wish 

giving  immediate  reply.  Then  with  renewed 
congratulations  and  polite  expression  of 
good-will,  he  went  away,  leaving  the  Com- 
moner uncertain  but  hopeful. 

With  genuine  sorrow  Kutami  saw  the  Sa- 
murai pass  through  his  gate  unpledged.  But 
he  went  on  with  the  work,  and  soon  the  new 
building  approached  completion.  Every  de- 
tail was  arranged  but  the  most  important  of 
all.  For  Jukichi  still  declined  to  commit  him- 
self. If  he  failed  to  secure  the  Samurai, 
though  he  succeeded  in  all  else,  Kutami  felt 
that  the  whole  undertaking  would  fail.  But 
he  exhausted  his  ingenuity  without  success. 
The  pride  of  his  abolished  caste  still  dom- 
inated the  Samurai.  It  was  an  incident  be- 
yond the  knowledge  of  either  that  determined 
Jukichi. 

Jealousy  is  not  the  curse  of  race  or  rank. 
It  finds  its  lodgment  in  the  breasts  of  rich  and 
poor  alike,  in  Occidental  and  Oriental.  It 
was  O-Koyo  who  found  the  first  evidence  of 
it  in  a  newspaper  wrapped  around  a  casual 
purchase,  and  with  unconcealed  emotion  took 
it  to  her  husband,  reviling  herself  for  being 
the  bearer  of  ill  news.  Poor  Kutami!  Of 
all  the  hard  thrusts  and  unkind  blows  of  his 


Jf*  the   Gmperor's  Wish  35 

none  too  easy  life  this  was  the  meanest  and 
worst.  It  was  a  savage  attack  on  his  cher- 
ished scheme.  The  school  plan  had  been  de- 
vised in  all  sincerity,  with  the  sole  purpose 
of  giving  aid,  without  its  being  known,  to  the 
man  who,  he  felt,  had  honored  him  by  enter- 
ing his  house,  and  whom  he  greatly  admired. 
But  here  he  saw  his  honest,  manly  work 
scornfully  derided,  his  simple  purpose  wan- 
tonly distorted  and  himself  held  up  to  ridicule 
more  bitter  than  his  bitterest  outcast  days  had 
ever  known.  Every  one  could  see  what  the 
real  object  of  the  new  school  was,  said  the 
paper.  The  spawn  of  the  frog  was  hoping  to 
be  hatched  out  into  eagles.  But  fine  dress 
and  large  words  did  not  hide  the  outcast. 
The  Eta,  though  he  clothed  an  army  and 
built  a  thousand  schools,  was  only  an  Eta. 
Law  might  call  him  a  Commoner;  it  could 
not  make  him  clean.  Contamination  was  in 
all  that  he  touched.  Out  upon  the  upstart 
with  his  vile  wealth,  who  dared  presume  to 
offer  schooling  to  the  sons  of  men  of  birth ! 

With  heart  too  heavy  for  words  Kutami 
gave  back  the  paper  to  his  wife.  The  cruel 
blow  seemed  to  have  struck  down  at  once  his 
ambition  and  his  energy.  He  sat  like  one 


36  Jft  the   Gmperor's  Wish 

paralyzed  and  could  neither  think  nor  speak. 
And  O-Koyo,  tearing  up  the  wretched  paper 
in  a  frenzy  of  grief,  as  if  thus  to  destroy  the 
slander,  threw  herself  down  on  the  mat  and 
sobbed  aloud. 

There  was  no  fight  left  in  Kutami.  But 
Matsumoto,  the  curio  dealer,  with  the  old 
Samurai  courage  untouched  in  his  heart, 
strove  to  inspirit  his  friend,  and  the  building 
was  finished.  The  Government  officials  had 
taken  no  notice  of  the  attack  on  the  founder, 
and  the  newspaper  discussion  provoked  by  it 
died  away  with  no  immediately  discernible 
effect. 

In  the  seclusion  of  his  quiet  home  Jukichi 
had  not  heard  the  bitter  denunciation  of  the 
new  school.  He  was  absorbed  in  the  old  prob- 
lem of  Kokan's  future.  The  money  he  had 
received  from  the  Government  was  almost  at 
an  end.  His  treasures  were  sold,  his  resources 
exhausted.  Swayed  to  and  fro  by  the  cur- 
rents of  conflicting  emotion  he  sat,  still  un- 
decided, still  reluctant  to  grasp  the  proffered 
relief. 

From  one  of  her  old  schoolmates  O-Mitsu 
heard  the  story  and  told  her  father.  The  old 
man  listened  with  flashing  eyes,  and  when 


tAtf  Gmperors  Wish  37 

she  finished  his  decision  was  made.  For  him- 
self he  would  not  take  the  step,  but  to  help 
another,  even  one  who  had  been  an  Eta,  ap- 
pealed to  his  sympathy  and  his  sense  of  honor. 

The  day  of  the  opening  arrived,  and  then 
the  result  of  the  slander  appeared.  No  pupils 
came  to  the  new  school.  In  painful  embar- 
rassment the  governor  of  the  Ken  stood  in 
the  great,  bare,  main  room  and  heard  the  piti- 
ful words  of  unhappy  Kutami  presenting  his 
gift  to  the  city.  Vain  and  empty  sounded  the 
pompous  response.  The  teachers,  gathered 
for  their  hopeful  task,  found  nothing  to  do. 
The  ceremonies  were  over.  The  governor 
and  his  officials  turned  to  go  away,  glad  the 
disagreeable  business  was  ended.  In  the 
doorway  stood  an  old  man  and  a  boy.  With 
grave  and  dignified  salute  they  waited  while 
the  governor  passed  out.  Then  into  the 
building  they  marched  and  up  to  the  office  of 
the  head-master.  Five  minutes  later  two  stu- 
dents were  duly  registered  and  the  new  school 
was  opened,  with  Kudo  Jukichi  and  Kudo 
Kokan  its  first  pupils. 

Jukichi  had  committed  himself  at  last,  but 
the  scandalous  assault  came  very  near  to  suc- 
cess. For  several  days  not  another  pupil 


38  Jft  tho  Gmperor's 


appeared.  Then  the  word  went  abroad  that 
Kudo  Jukichi,  the  Samurai,  had  registered  his 
son,  who  was  in  daily  attendance,  and  that 
Kudo-san  himself  had  become  instructor  of 
swordsmanship.  Men  who  had  hoped  to  have 
their  sons  profit  by  the  new  institution,  but 
who  had  been  held  back  by  cowardly  ap- 
prehension, rejoiced  at  the  relief,  and  some 
who  secretly  sympathized  with  the  attack, 
and  hated  to  see  this  evidence  of  the  progress 
of  the  upstart  succeed,  were  shamed  into  sup- 
porting it.  The  day  was  won  for  Kutami, 
and  it  was  a  victory  infinitely  sweeter  than  his 
bitterest  calumniator  could  have  imagined, 
for  a  reason  of  which  scarce  half  a  dozen 
persons  in  all  the  city  had  any  inkling. 


V 

)ORE  and  more  as  he  grew  older, 
young  Kudo  Kokan  betrayed  the 
haughty  spirit  that  had  character- 
ized his  ancestors.  To  him  Ku- 
tami  the  Commoner  was  still  Chobei  the  Eta. 
With  no  hint  of  how  intimately  his  own  ca- 
reer was  connected  with  the  success  of  the 
new  school,  he  was  much  opposed  to  having 
anything  to  do  with  it.  But  as  the  days 
passed,  and  others  of  his  inherited  standing 
filled  his  classes,  his  active  opposition  relaxed 
into  scorn  of  the  man  and  the  institution  from 
which  he  profited  so  much. 

Boys  are  boys  just  as  much  in  Japan  as  in 

39 


40  J4t  the  Cmperor's  *UJish 

any  other  country,  and  must  grow  to  manhood 
through  the  same  struggles  and  with  just  as 
much  exhibition  of  their  native  barbarity.  It 
was  in  the  second  year  of  Kokan's  attendance 
at  the  new  school  that  Kutami  entered  his  own 
son,  who  was  preparing  for  a  course  at  the 
university.  Soichi  was  growing  very  tall  and 
strong,  fonder  of  sports  and  games,  of  mili- 
tary drill  and  marches  than  of  books  and  hard 
study.  Now  for  the  first  time  he  met  the 
young  Samurai.  The  early  friendship  with 
O-Mitsu  had  run  its  course  of  vicissitudes 
and  pleasures,  and  seemed  to  have  come  to  the 
fork  in  the  road.  As  the  girl  grew  older  and 
learned  more  of  the  ways  of  her  world,  she 
came  to  understand  more  fully  what  had  been 
intended  by  the  little  talebearer  who  first  in- 
formed her  of  Soichi's  social  station.  She  saw 
the  proud  attitude  of  her  father  toward  the 
Commoner,  and  her  friendship  with  the  boy 
was  not  mentioned  at  home.  Apparently  that 
was  the  only  circumstance  which  distinguished 
it  from  scores  of  other  boy  and  girl  friend- 
ships. But  the  fact  that  it  was  not  wise  to  say 
anything  about  it  gave  it  a  fictitious  impor- 
tance, and  perhaps  made  it  linger  in  a  ten- 
derer corner  of  the  girl's  recollection. 


the   Gmperor's  Wish  4! 

The  appearance  of  Soichi  at  the  school  of- 
fered occasion  to  Kokan  for  the  revelation  of 
his  least  lovable  qualities,  and,  boylike,  he 
promptly  showed  them.  He  took  delight  in 
suppressed  sneers  and  open  snubs.  And  Soi- 
chi, being  a  boy  of  high  spirit  and  no  mean 
courage,  cherished  a  sturdy  resentment.  Sav- 
agery is  indigenous  with  most  real  boys. 
Before  they  have  reached  the  age  of  reason 
it  crops  out  persistently,  whether  their  skins 
are  brown  or  white,  whether  their  eyes  tilt 
upward  at  the  corners  or  lie  straight  across 
the  face.  But  it  is  of  two  kinds,  merely  exu- 
berant spirits,  impersonal,  horse-playful,  or 
vicious  and  vindictive.  Kokan  had  no  inten- 
tion to  be  mean,  but  often  pranks  played  just 
for  the  fun  of  it  are  none  the  less  cruel,  and 
what  starts  in  good-natured  play  ends  in  dead- 
ly earnest.  And  Kokan  misjudged  the  mettle 
of  Soichi.  He  had  the  easy  confidence  of  as- 
sured superiority  and  could  not  guess  that  be- 
neath the  jacket  of  the  boy  he  often  derided 
with  the  scornful  name  of  Eta  there  beat  a 
heart  as  stout  as  his  own. 

Unconsciously,  too,  he  had  a  large  advan- 
tage. For  Soichi  knew  the  secret  Kokan  did 
not,  of  the  real  reason  for  the  founding  of  the 
4 


42  J(t  the  Gmperor's  Wish 

school,  and  at  any  time  could  have  given  his 
tormentor  a  thrust  that  would  have  brought 
his  insolent  pride  abjectly  to  the  dust.  Not 
many  American  or  European  boys  would  have 
stood  proof  against  such  a  test,  for  they  are 
not  trained  in  the  ideas  of  filial  obedience  and 
loyalty,  that  are  the  inheritance  of  the  Japa- 
nese. Soichi  knew  that  a  single  word  from 
him  would  end  his  persecution,  but  at  the  same 
time  it  might  be  the  ruin  of  all  his  father  had 
tried  to  do,  and  he  held  his  tongue.  And,  be- 
cause he  thought  he  dealt  with  unresisting 
putty,  Kokan  went  from  bad  to  worse.  The 
taunt  that  had  been  but  a  joke  at  first  became 
a  thing  of  venom,  and  his  easy,  indifferent 
contempt  began  to  grow  into  something  al- 
most hatred. 

How  little  beyond  their  noses  most  boys 
can  see !  Kokan  came  to  believe  there  was  no 
flint  at  all  in  Soichi,  for  try  as  he  would,  he 
could  not  strike  fire.  Then  came  the  thunder- 
bolt. 

The  year's  work  was  almost  finished.  A  few 
days  more  and  Kokan  would  be  graduated. 
It  was  with  a  sense  of  great  relief  that  Soichi 
saw  the  end  so  near.  It  had  been  a  bitter  year 
for  him.  Not  only  had  Kokan's  taunts  and 


Jft  iho  Gmperor's  Wish  43 

persecution  strained  his  endurance  almost  to 
breaking;  it  had  cost  him  the  sympathy  and 
friendship  of  many  of  his  fellows,  who  miscon- 
strued his  silence  and  had  come  to  believe  with 
his  tormentor  that  he  was  a  boy  of  no  spirit. 
He  thought  it  all  over  by  himself  and  a  great 
resolve  came  to  him.  As  he  walked  alone  to 
the  school  one  morning  he  planned  his  course. 
Let  the  result  be  what  it  might,  his  mates 
should  see  that  it  was  not  fear  that  had  kept 
him  from  open  resentment. 

The  bell  rang  and  the  boys  came  trooping 
in  from  the  playground.  Standing  aloof,  Soi- 
chi  watched  until  he  saw  Kokan.  The  Samu- 
rai boy  walked  briskly,  talking  light-heartedly 
with  two  or  three  companions.  To  enter  the 
building  he  must  pass  close  to  the  spot  where 
the  Commoner  stood.  Soichi  waited  until 
Kokan  and  his  friends  were  but  a  few  feet 
away,  then  stepped  directly  in  front  of  them, 
and  turning  his  back,  walked  slowly  toward 
the  door.  Instantly  Kokan  understood  that  a 
crisis  had  come.  For  a  moment  he  was  too 
amazed  to  speak.  Then  he  shouted: 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Eta  ?  Get  out  of  my 
way!" 

Soichi  made  no  reply,  and  stepped  more 


44  J(t  the  Gmperor's  Wish 

slowly  than  before.  Kokan  was  almost  on  his 
heels. 

"  Jump,  dog !  "  the  young  Samurai  shouted 
in  sudden  anger ;  "  jump  before  I  kick  you !  " 

For  answer  Soichi  turned  and  without  a 
word  slapped  him  smartly  across  the  mouth 
with  the  flat  of  his  hand. 

A  moment  Kokan  stood  like  one  turned  to 
stone.  It  was  as  if  the  blow  had  paralyzed 
every  faculty,  not  by  its  force  but  by  its  shock. 
Then  in  wild  fury  he  sprang  forward,  his 
hands  outstretched  as  if  to  clutch  and  tear  to 
pieces  the  boy  who  had  dared  to  strike  him. 
Soichi  was  ready.  In  strength  and  stature  he 
was  quite  a  match  for  his  frantic  antagonist ; 
but  it  needed  no  force  to  meet  that  furious 
rush.  Swifter  than  sight  his  hands  went  for- 
ward, caught  the  arms  reaching  out  to  seize 
him,  and  with  a  single  twitch  hurled  the  Sa- 
murai boy  bodily  over  his  head.  Then  like  a 
cat  he  whirled  to  meet  a  new  attack.  It  was  a 
trick  he  had  often  played  on  the  practice  mats 
of  the  gymnasium,  where  not  in  vain  had  he 
worked  that  year  with  the  master  of  jiu-jitsu. 

Dazed  by  the  force  of  his  fall  Kokan  strug- 
gled to  his  feet,  mad  with  rage.  Fortunate 
then  for  them  both  that  the  wearing  of  swords 


Hurled  the  Samurai  boy  bodily  over  his  head. 


the    Gnperor's   Wish  45 

was  no  longer  the  Samurai's  privilege,  else 
Soichi  would  have  been  killed  in  his  tracks. 
But  if  passion  had  blinded  Kokan,  his  friends 
could  still  see,  and  before  another  wild  rush 
should  give  Soichi  a  second  opportunity  they 
had  seized  both  boys  and  held  them  apart.  In 
another  moment  the  master,  who  from  the 
doorway  saw  and  heard  it  all,  had  reached 
them,  and  discipline  was  beginning  to  work. 

"  He  insulted  the  Emperor  and  I  struck 
him,"  said  Soichi  calmly,  when  they  exam- 
ined him.  "  If  I  had  had  a  sword  I  should 
have  cut  him  down." 

"What?"  said  the  master,  "insulted  the 
Emperor ! " 

"  It  is  false !  "  cried  Kokan,  restored  to  out- 
ward calm,  but  with  heart  burning  with  ha- 
tred. "I  did  not!" 

"  He  called  me  Eta,"  retorted  Soichi,  "  and 
the  Emperor  has  decreed  that  there  are  no 
more  Etas." 

Before  that  reasoning  even  Kokan  was  si- 
lent, and  because  he  was  Jukichi's  son  the 
master  found  a  way  to  let  the  matter  drop. 

Soichi  had  given  a  proof  of  his  spirit,  which 
every  boy  in  the  school  was  ready  to  accept. 
He  had  won  his  point,  but  the  young  Samurai 


46  Jft  the  Gmperor's  Wish 

went  away  to  his  military  school  with  a  bitter- 
ness rankling  in  his  heart  it  was  to  take  years 
to  cure.  The  quarrel  had  its  effect  in  the 
house  in  Timber  Street  no  less  than  in  the 
home  of  Kutami.  Jukichi  at  once  left  his  place 
as  instructor  and  opened  classes  of  his  own. 
It  did  not  matter.  The  work  for  which  the 
school  had  been  founded  was  done,  and  the 
Commoner,  grieving  that  it  had  come  to  such 
result,  nevertheless  was  satisfied,  and  more 
than  ever  proud  of  the  son  who  had  shown 
both  his  courage  and  his  patience. 


VI 

JHE  period  of  "  Little  Plenty  "  was 
wearing  to  its  close.  Already  the 
wistaria  blossoms  were  fading  and 
the  gorgeous  azaleas  were  drop- 
ping their  petals.  In  the  fields  the  barley 
heads  had  turned  to  yellow  and  the  young  rice 
in  the  seed  beds  stood  tall  and  strong  in  its 
thick  green  rows  awaiting  the  harvest  that 
should  make  room  for  it.  It  was  a  day  when 
even  nature  rested  and  basked  in  the  smile  of 
heaven.  The  sun  shone  as  if  pouring  the  ac- 
cumulated experience  of  millions  of  years  into 
each  moment,  saturating  earth  and  trees  and 

47 


48  jft  ihe   Gmperor's  Wish 

flowers  and  grass  with  a  deluge  of  molten 
gold.  The  vast  blue  arch  gleamed  like  a  great 
aerial  mirror,  reflecting  the  wide  expanse  of 
motionless  sea  that  lay  shimmering  in  the  sun- 
light, unmarked  by  a  single  ripple.  On  its 
sleeping  surface  myriad  fishing  boats,  with 
dull  gray  hulls  and  red  brown  sails,  drifted 
and  dozed.  The  noisy  calls  of  the  city  were 
hushed,  and  to  the  girl  sitting  among  the  trees 
on  the  crest  of  the  pine-clad  cone  beyond  the 
end  of  Timber  Street  there  rose  only  now  and 
then  a  muffled  sound,  like  the  dull  roll  of  surf 
on  a  far-distant  beach.  Only  life  that  was 
wild  sent  its  challenge  to  her.  Natsuzemi 
shrilled  his  strident  ji-i-iii  from  the  branches 
over  the  Shinto  shrine  in  vigorous  chorus,  as 
if  determined  to  make  the  uttermost  of  such 
a  day,  and  Min-min-zemi  chanted  his  ritual 
over  and  over  from  scores  of  trees,  singing 
the  prayer  that  has  no  end. 

Six  years  had  more  than  fulfilled  the  prom- 
ise of  her  childhood  for  Kudo  O-Mitsu.  At 
eighteen  she  was  the  full-blown  flower  of 
which  at  twelve  she  had  been  only  the  bud. 
Such  an  one  she  was  as  would  set  the  hearts 
of  half  a  city  a-throb  by  a  single  glance, 
even  a  city  where  men  care  not  overmuch  for 


Cmperor's  Wish  49 


maidens,  and  passion  is  rarely  of  the  tender 
sort  until  years  of  association  have  coddled  it 
into  flame.  Her  face  was  a  long,  narrow  oval, 
the  stamp  of  her  gentle  birth,  exquisitely 
curved  from  cheek  to  chin  and  rounded  to  the 
delicate  point  that  emphasized  her  beauty  and 
yet  revealed  her  determination.  Narrow  at 
the  top  and  broadening  to  the  temples,  her 
ivory-white  forehead  disclosed  the  outline  of 
beloved  Fujiyama,  the  sacred  mountain  of  her 
race.  The  full  lips  of  her  little  mouth  were 
brilliant  with  the  stain  of  luscious  cherries. 
Above  a  great  mass  of  shining,  jetlike  hair 
gleamed  softly  the  green  jade  of  the  orna- 
ments that  betrayed  her  years. 

She  sat  leaning  a  little  forward,  the  slender 
fingers  of  one  hand  half  supporting,  half  ca- 
ressing her  chin,  and  gazed  dreamily  out  at 
the  splendid  pageant  of  sea  and  shore  spread 
before  her.  But  its  beauty  was  not  in  her 
thought.  The  wonderful  shimmer  of  the  opal- 
escent water,  now  heliotrope,  now  tan,  now 
pearl,  under  the  rapturous  rays  of  the  after- 
noon sun,  the  soft  blue  of  the  roofs  rising 
here  and  there  through  the  brilliant  green 
of  the  verdured  hills,  had  now  no  charm  for 
her.  The  melancholy  note  of  the  wild  dove, 


50  Jtt  the  Gmporor's  Wish 

calling  sweetly  from  the  deep  recesses  of  the 
pines,  suited  more  her  mood.  For  trouble  had 
come  to  O-Mitsu,  of  a  kind  she  did  not  know 
how  to  meet.  Chukei,  the  nakodo,  the  pro- 
fessional matchmaker,  had  called  to  see  her 
father. 

To  the  old  Samurai,  hardly  less  than  to  the 
girl,  his  message  had  come  with  a  shock.  For 
as  unconsciously  as  she  had  grown  to  woman- 
hood, so  unconsciously  had  he  seen  her  grow, 
with  never  a  thought  of  the  demand  for  her 
that  time  was  certain  to  bring.  The  son  of 
whom  he  was  so  proud  was  gone  to  the  army. 
That  year  he  had  received  his  commission 
and  joined  his  regiment.  The  red  cap-band 
of  the  Guards  was  a  badge  of  honor  for  Ju- 
kichi,  and  he  dwelt  lovingly  on  the  future  of 
the  young  officer  who  had  begun  his  career  by 
winning  appointment  to  the  proudest  service 
in  the  land.  But  the  old  man  missed  the  boy, 
and  honor  could  not  entirely  fill  his  place  in 
the  lonely  house.  It  was  the  girl  who  brought 
sunshine  into  Jukichi's  daily  routine.  The 
classes  and  the  lessons  that  had  earned  their 
humble  subsistence  still  occupied  part  of  his 
time,  but  the  old  man  had  lost  his  zest  for 
them,  and  his  urgent  need  had  passed.  Ko- 


the   Cmperors  Wish  5! 

kan's  pay  was  enough  for  them  all  consider- 
ing their  simple  way  of  life,  and  Jukichi, 
feeling  his  years,  was  beginning  to  contem- 
plate the  time  when  he  should  resign  his 
cares,  and  as  inkyo,  live  out  his  days  in  rest 
and  peace. 

In  all  such  dreams  O-Mitsu  had  her  share. 
Jukichi  did  not  mean  deliberately  to  keep  her 
from  the  marriage  to  which  every  Japanese 
girl  looks  forward,  but  he  put  the  thought  of 
it  from  him  as  unpleasant,  and  Chukei  had 
forced  it  on  him  against  his  will.  He  turned 
the  nakodo  away  with  evasive  answer  and 
scant  encouragement.  Then  for  hours  he  sat 
thinking  of  the  girl  and  her  future.  After 
supper,  when  she  brought  his  pipe,  he  said: 

"  I  have  received  a  proposal  of  marriage  for 
you." 

She  put  down  his  tobacco  pouch  and  sat 
still,  a  sudden  clutching  about  her  heart  as  if 
of  suffocation.  For  some  time  Jukichi  said 
nothing  more,  then  he  added: 

"  Chukei-san,  a  nakodo,  has  been  here  to  see 
me  about  it." 

"Ah,"  she  said,  with  a  pitiful  little  effort 
to  smile.  Her  father  had  given  no  hint  yet 
of  his  own  feeling,  and  she  dreaded  what  was 


52  Jft  the   Gmporor's  Wish 

to  come.  She  was  not  prepared  for  this.  She 
had  not  thought  of  it.  Kokan  and  her  father 
had  made  up  her  world,  and  she  did  not  know 
what  to  say.  The  old  man  sat  looking  at  her 
fondly,  and  for  a  few  moments  neither  spoke. 
Then  he  said  slowly: 

"  Yamomoto-san,  the  silk  merchant,  makes 
proposal  on  behalf  of  his  son." 

She  smiled  again,  and  with  better  will,  for 
somehow  she  found  relief  in  the  words  and 
manner  of  speaking.  Besides,  she  did  not 
know  the  young  man  who  had  honored 
her,  and  she  began  to  feel  that  perhaps  her 
father  might  not  consent.  She  had  no  wish 
to  marry,  and  she  was  not  the  girl  to  do  so 
simply  for  the  asking.  At  length,  as  her  father 
said  no  more,  she  plucked  up  courage,  and 
bowing  deferentially  to  him,  said: 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  marry  yet.  It  is  better 
for  me,  if  you  will,  to  live  here  with  you  un- 
til perhaps  Kokan  shall  bring  you  another 
daughter  to  keep  the  house." 

A  smile  of  plea«ure  lighted  the  old  man's 
face. 

"  Ha,"  he  said,  "  it  is  as  I  wished  you  would 
feel." 

Then,   if  he  had  been   an  Occidental,   he 


jft  the  Gmperor's  Wish  53 

would  have  kissed  his  daughter,  and  heart  to 
heart  they  would  have  talked  until  the  matter 
was  settled.  But  deep  and  true  though  affec- 
tion may  be  among  the  Japanese,  it  finds  small 
show  in  outward  expression,  and  caresses  are 
signs  of  weakness. 

"  I  have  made  no  answer,"  he  went  on,  after 
a  little.  "  I  had  no  will  to  have  you  marry  if 
you  were  not  ready." 

His  hand  moved  a  little  as  if  to  touch  her 
arm,  and  his  eyes  glistened  with  unusual  emo- 
tion. 

"  I  will  tell  Chukei-san." 

That  was  all.  The  incident  was  ended ;  but 
the  girl,  wiser  by  instinct  than  her  father,  al- 
though without  experience,  marked  it  for  the 
beginning.  What  was  it  that  stirred  her  heart 
in  protest  so  strangely  and  so  strongly?  She 
did  not  know.  The  ghost  of  some  long  dead 
experience,  perhaps.  The  wood  dove  in  the 
trees  behind  her  called  plaintively  to  its  unseen 
mate.  The  sun  slid  down  the  western  heaven 
and  threw  his  long  rays  caressingly  over  her, 
face  to  face  with  a  world-old  perplexity.  Why 
should  she  be  sad  at  the  prospect  for  which 
other  girls  longed  ?  It  was  the  pleasant  home- 
life  with  her  father,  and  the  deep,  quiet  home 


54 


the   Gmperor's 


love,  she  thought  at  last;  life  and  love  that 
knew  no  change.  That  was  the  way  she 
wished  to  go  on,  and  with  a  sudden  blaze  of 
anger  she  hated  old  Chukei  for  his  unwel- 
come interference.  Gradually  her  mind  re- 
covered its  old  poise,  and  she  saw  the  course 
she  would  take.  Her  father's  attitude  was  her 
good  fortune.  As  long  as  he  continued  in  that 
mood  the  menace  was  shorn  of  its  power,  and 
after  that —  The  huge  red  sun  splashed  into 
the  flaming  sea,  and  with  its  parting  fire  flash- 
ing back  from  her  lambent  eyes  she  rose  and 
started  down  the  winding  path  toward  home. 


VII 

JHERE  was  joy  in  the  house  in  Aza- 
lea Street.  Soichi  had  come  home. 
His  work  at  the  university  was 
finished,  and  despite  his  dislike  for 
study  he  had  taken  high  place  in  honor  of  the 
father  who  wished  him  to.  Now  he  had  re- 
turned to  make  a  beginning  in  the  career  Ku- 
tami  had  planned  for  him.  But  for  a  time 
there  was  to  be  no  work.  Father  and  mother 
and  son  were  to  play  a  little  together  and  give 
rein  to  the  pleasure  of  the  reunion.  After 
that  the  new  venture  would  take  all  the  effort 
of  both  men. 

ss 


56  jft  the  Emperor's  Wish 

Kutami  intended  to  branch  out.  The  old 
business  was  good  enough  for  him,  but  the  son 
was  worthy  of  something  better.  He  should 
be  a  banker,  and  already  the  Commoner  had 
arranged  with  some  of  his  wealthy  business 
associates  for  the  founding  of  the  new  insti- 
tution which  should  give  Soichi  his  opportu- 
nity. The  friends  who  gathered  at  the  com- 
fortable house  to  celebrate  the  joyful  return 
of  the  young  man,  discussed  the  new  project 
with  unflagging  enthusiasm,  and  all  predicted 
a  proud  success  for  Soichi.  The  sake  cups 
were  often  exchanged  and  many  cigarettes 
perfumed  the  air.  There  was  no  flaw  any- 
where. 

It  was  the  next  afternoon  that  Kutami, 
trudging  along  through  Timber  Street  on  his 
way  back  from  his  office,  and  turning  over  in 
his  mind  his  plans  for  his  son,  passed  the 
house  of  Jukichi.  A  drizzling  rain  was  fall- 
ing, but  the  Commoner,  secure  under  the  wide 
shelter  of  his  yellow,  oiled-paper  umbrella, 
cared  nothing  for  that.  As  he  passed  the 
gate  of  the  Samurai  a  gust  of  wind  swirling 
through  the  street  tilted  the  umbrella  sharply 
back,  and  Kutami  glanced  up  just  in  time  to 
see  old  Chukei,  the  matchmaker,  coming  out. 


Jtt  the  Gmperor's  Wish  57 

"  Oho ! "  he  said,  as  he  saw  the  middle- 
man, "  a  wedding,  eh  ?  I  wonder  what  lucky 
young  fellow  it  can  be  who  is  to  have  Kudo- 
san's  daughter  for  his  wife." 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  looking  after  the 
nakodo  as  he  strode  toward  the  city,  then 
turned  and  went  on.  It  was  no  affair  of  his 
after  all,  and  before  he  had  reached  his  own 
home  he  was  back  again  in  the  absorbing  sub- 
ject of  Soichi  and  the  new  bank,  and  had  for- 
gotten all  about  Jukichi's  daughter. 

Shrewd  old  Chukei  had  met  a  puzzling  re- 
buff. The  circumstances  were  everything 
that  to  his  mind  foreshadowed  a  successful 
negotiation.  But  he  had  been  sent  away  with 
almost  no  explanation.  The  nakodo  shook  his 
head  and  plodded  along,  wondering  what 
to  do. 

O-Mitsu  was  happy.  Not  soon  again,  she 
thought,  would  this  particular  middleman  re- 
turn to  her  father's  house  with  his  annoying 
business.  With  unwonted  lightness  of  heart 
she  went  about  her  work.  Then  when  the 
rain  ceased  and  the  sun  came  out,  she  stepped 
out  into  the  yard  and  on  the  tall  getas  that 
guarded  her  dainty  feet  from  the  mud,  took 
her  way  up  the  path  toward  her  favorite  spot 
5 


58  tft  the   Gmperor's  Wish 

among  the  pines  by  the  old  shrine.  The  world 
was  greatly  changed  for  her  since  last  she 
looked  out  upon  that  familiar  scene.  The  sails 
of  the  fishing-boats  bellied  out  under  the  fresh 
breeze,  the  spray  dashed  over  their  bows,  the 
trees  swayed  and  nodded,  everywhere  was  life 
and  activity.  The  whole  world  sang  and  her 
heart  with  it. 

She  stood  a  long  time  gazing  down  at  the 
spreading  sea,  quite  unconscious  that  another 
had  climbed  the  steep  path,  one  who  now 
found  even  a  more  entrancing  picture  before 
his  eyes  than  the  wonderful  view  below  them. 
It  was  Soichi,  come  to  visit  the  old  shrine.  All 
unprepared  for  the  vision  that  came  so  sud- 
denly before  him  as  he  turned  to  look  down 
on  the  well-remembered  shore,  it  was  hard  to 
stifle  his  admiration  and  surprise. 

Leaning  a  little  against  a  gnarled  old  pine, 
she  stood  motionless,  her  strong  profile  and  the 
exquisite  curve  of  her  chin  revealed  unwitting- 
ly to  him  as  he  paused,  half  concealed  by  a 
clump  of  trees.  Back  over  the  years  since  he 
had  seen  her,  the  rush  of  memory  took  him  to 
that  day  when  she  had  told  him  that  she  knew 
his  secret.  He  saw  her  again  standing  in  the 
road  and  bidding  him,  with  a  smile,  come  on 


Jff  the   Gmperors  Wish  59 

with  her.  And  now  that  little  girl  was  this 
beautiful  woman !  She  had  not  changed,  and 
yet  she  was  all  changed. 

Slowly  the  tide  of  emotion  swelled  within 
him.  He  could  not  remember  that  he  had  ever 
thought  she  was  a  pretty  girl,  and  in  the  years 
he  had  spent  at  the  university  he  had  scarcely 
thought  of  her  at  all.  He  had  seen  many 
pretty  girls  there,  but  never  had  one  affected 
him  like  this.  Now  he  saw  at  a  glance  that  she 
was  wonderfully  beautiful,  and  the  more  he 
looked  the  more  wonderful  she  became.  It 
dawned  on  him  that  she  was  much  the  most 
beautiful  woman  he  had  ever  seen,  and  imme- 
diately he  had  an  almost  irresistible  longing 
to  go  to  her  at  once  and  tell  her  so. 

An  unhappy  thought  of  himself  restrained 
him.  They  were  no  longer  schoolfellows. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  a  Samurai  and  he — 
Poor  Soichi !  Not  even  his  university  life  had 
taken  from  his  own  consciousness  all  taint  of 
the  old  disgrace.  He  did  not  know,  because 
he  had  had  no  experience,  that  love  is  heimin 
as  well  as  shisoku,  a  Commoner  as  often  as  a 
Gentleman,  and  that  there  is  never  advantage 
in  loving  a  girl  unless  you  tell  her  so. 

He  moved  a  little,  and  a  snapping  twig  told 


60  j(t  tko  Gmperor's  Wish 

her  that  some  one  was  near.  She  turned 
quickly  and  their  eyes  met.  A  long  moment 
they  stood  so  and  neither  spoke,  yet  in  that 
moment  the  whole  world  changed  for  each  of 
them.  Under  his  steady  gaze  she  felt  the 
blush  come  tingling  up  her  throat  and  spread 
across  her  cheeks.  Like  one  grown  fast  to 
the  ground  on  which  he  rested,  he  stood  and 
only  stared.  His  brain  refused  to  act,  his 
tongue  to  work.  Then  she  moved,  and  the 
spell  was  broken. 

"  O-Mitsu-san ! "  he  cried,  and  tone  and 
glance  told  all  he  would  have  uttered. 

With  all  her  face  rosy  with  warm  blood  she 
gazed  fearlessly  back  into  his  eyes,  and  mur- 
mured softly  a  single  word,  yet  one  instinct 
with  the  feeling  of  a  thousand. 

"  Thou,"  she  said,  in  the  old  familiar  lan- 
guage of  their  childhood. 

Even  as  eyes  and  look  had  spoken  for  him 
when  voice  and  tongue  were  mute,  so  had  she 
answered.  His  ugly  doubts  of  himself  fled  at 
first  sight  of  her  smile  and  it  was  the  old  Soi- 
chi  who  sprang  forward  to  her  side.  A  thou- 
sand questions  trembled  on  his  lips  and  strug- 
gled in  vain  for  utterance.  His  unruly  tongue 
refused  its  function,  and  he  stopped  in  confu- 


the  Gmperor's  Wish  6 1 

sion,  even  his  bold  eyes  falling  before  her  smil- 
ing glance.  It  was  the  girl,  older  than  he  in 
such  matters  by  hundreds  of  years  of  heritage, 
who  said  lightly  after  a  little  pause: 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  had  come  home." 

A  dozen  emotions  fought  together  for  ex- 
pression, but  all  were  crowded  back,  and  he 
answered  in  commonplace : 

"  I  have  been  here  nearly  a  week." 

"  So  long?  "  she  said,  questioning. 

He  fancied  he  caught  a  note  of  reproach  in 
her  tone,  so  far  had  his  self-esteem  come  back, 
and  a  pang  of  regret  crossed  him  at  the 
thought  that  he  had  lost  those  days. 

"  I  am  a  fool,"  he  said  irrelevantly,  but  with 
air  so  dejected  that  one  far  less  clever  than  she 
would  have  followed  his  thought. 

She  laughed  merrily,  and  the  sound  of  her 
voice  completed  his  undoing.  He  was  back  to 
elemental  simplicity  again,  and  the  passion 
that  was  uppermost  in  his  heart  came  bursting 
out  with  truthful  bluntness. 

"  You  are  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  all 
the  world,"  he  said. 

Again  the  blush  swept  across  her  face  and 
the  long  lashes  fell  over  the  merry  eyes.  The 
flood-gate  of  his  speech  was  lifted  at  last.  The 


62  Jft  the  Gmperor's  Wish 

torrent  of  his  emotion  flowed  forth  with  the 
rush  of  waters  long  pent  up,  telling  her  the 
ancient  story  he  had  known  all  his  life,  but 
which  only  that  last  quarter  hour  had  revealed 
to  him.  And  the  girl,  listening  with  fluttering 
heart,  heard  more  than  he  said,  for  he  was  an- 
swering the  question  she  had  asked  herself, 
and  she  understood  now  her  hot  protest  at  the 
message  of  the  nakodo. 

They  sat  down  by  the  great  rock  on  the  far 
slope  of  the  hill,  where  the  thick  pines  screened 
them  from  the  view  of  visitors  to  the  shrine, 
and  where  the  sea  lay  blue,  strong,  and  peace- 
ful below  them.  For  an  hour  of  which  no 
power  ever  could  rob  them,  heart  was  laid 
bare  to  heart.  Innocently,  simply,  with  the 
peace  of  the  glorious  day,  they  prattled  of  the 
wonder  that  was  theirs,  the  discovery  they 
alone  of  all  the  world  had  made,  and  never  a 
thought  cloud  floated  across  their  heaven  to 
disturb  the  serenity  of  its  sunshine. 


VIII 

was  a  good  thing  for  Soichi  that 
he  had  received  the  proper  Jap- 
anese training  in  emotional  self- 
repression  or  he  certainly  would 
have  betrayed  his  secret  very  soon  after  his 
return  to  the  house  in  Azalea  Street.  It  not 
only  filled  him  to  the  overflowing  point ;  it 
enveloped  him  roundabout.  He  was  drowned 
in  it.  Only  the  strong  force  of  habit  saved 
him,  and  the  preoccupation  of  his  parents  pre- 
vented them  from  noticing  his  sudden  dis- 
traction and  absent-mindedness.  Four  days 
went  by,  two  so  long  that  night  seemed  never 
to  come,  and  two  so  short  that  he  remembered 
of  each  nothing  but  the  blissful  hour  when 

63 


64  rft  the   Gmperor's  With 

he  had  seen  O-Mitsu.  They  had  lived  over 
again  the  past  and  drunk  the  joy  of  the 
present.  Then  came  the  specter.  Boys  and 
girls  who  fall  in  love  in  Japan,  where  the 
nakodo  does  most  of  the  wooing,  have  even 
less  chance  than  Western  lovers  for  the  pro- 
verbially rare  smooth  course  of  affection. 
And  when  he  is  of  such  humble  descent  as 
Soichi  and  she  the  daughter  of  a  Samurai, 
that  little  chance  is  very  small  indeed.  But 
they  were  true  Japanese  and  had  no  lack  of 
courage.  They  looked  their  trouble  squarely 
in  the  eyes  and  questioned  only  how  to 
meet  it. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  teacher  who 
frightened  me  so  that  first  day  at  school  ?  " 
she  asked,  going  back  again  to  the  beginning 
of  all  things.  "  When  they  told  me  first  that 
I  should  not  play  with  you  I  asked  him  if  it 
were  so.  Do  you  know  what  he  said  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  he  answered,  a  little  sadly, 
for  he  saw  how  always  the  specter  stood  be- 
tween them. 

"  He  was  a  Samurai,"  she  went  on,  "  and 
he  knew.  He  said  the  Emperor  had  de- 
stroyed the  old  distinction  and  we  were  all 
alike." 


Jft  the  Gmperor's  Wish  65 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "before  the  law.  But 
there  are  some  things  that  not  even  the  Em- 
peror's law  can  reach." 

"  Treason !  "  she  cried  lightly.  "  The  Em- 
peror's law  reaches  everywhere  and  touches 
everything." 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  smile.  "  Do  you 
think,"  he  said,  "  that  the  Emperor  wishes  us 
two  to  be  married  ?  " 

Her  eyes  dwelt  fondly  on  his  face,  and  she 
answered  bravely : 

"  He  wishes  the  old  barriers  to  be  utterly 
thrown  down  and  all  his  people  to  be  one." 

The  picture  of  that  day  at  his  father's 
school  when  he  had  asserted  his  manhood 
came  back  to  him  with  a  rush. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  he  said  soberly,  "  that  is  true. 
Perhaps  it  might  have  been,  but  I  spoiled  it." 

"  Thou  ?  "  she  said,  using  again  that  fond 
expression  that  sent  the  blood  surging 
through  him. 

"  I  struck  your  brother,"  he  answered. 
"  Perhaps  but  for  that " 

"  No,  no !  "  she  cried.  "  I  know  about  that. 
It  was  right.  There  would  have  been  no  hope 
if  you  had  not  done  it.  You  do  not  know 
Kokan,  how  proud  and  hard  he  is,  how  he  de- 


66  j(t  the   Gmperor's  Wish 

spises  fear.  He  thought  you  were  afraid  of 
him,  and  he  hated  you  for  it.  If  you  had  not 
shown  him  you  were  not,  and — and  this  had 
come,  he  would  have  killed  you." 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said  coolly. 

His  tone  startled  her.  It  was  only  a  little, 
after  all,  that  she  knew  of  men,  and  there  was 
a  side  of  Soichi  that  she  did  not  suspect,  be- 
cause of  the  difference  in  their  training. 

"  Ah,  but  he  would,"  she  declared  ear- 
nestly. "  You  do  not  know  how  quick  and  hot 
his  temper  is." 

"  Perhaps  I  should  have  killed  him,"  Soichi 
answered.  "  It  would  have  been  a  fight,  not  a 
murder." 

The  words  surprised  him  almost  as  much 
as  they  did  her,  but  for  a  different  reason. 
That  he  had  said  them  to  her  was  the  won- 
der to  him;  that  he  should  have  the  feeling 
they  disclosed  was  her  amazement.  It  was 
the  spirit  of  the  Samurai,  the  spirit  that  all 
her  training  told  her  belonged  only  to  them, 
and  yet  he  revealed  it  as  lightly  as  if  it  were 
a  thing  of  supreme  indifference,  a  common- 
place, the  matter-of-fact  possession  of  every 
man.  A  new  joy  came  to  her  with  the  unex- 
pected knowledge,  and  instantly  new  hope 


the  Gmperor's  Wish  67 

sprang  up,  vague  and  undefined,  but  none  the 
less  profound.  Somehow,  some  way  this 
unimagined  quality  in  him  would  throw  down 
the  hateful  barrier  of  prejudice  and  set  them 
free.  There  was  a  deepened  tenderness  in  the 
eyes  that  answered  his  gaze. 

"  You  said  there  would  have  been  no  hope 
if  I  had  not  done  that,"  he  went  on,  after  a 
little.  "  Did  you  think  Kokan  would  ever 
forgive  that  blow  ?  " 

"  He  is  brave  and  true,"  she  answered 
softly,  "  even  if  he  is  proud  and  scornful. 
Too  brave  himself  not  to  admire  bravery  in 
another.  He  thought  you  were  afraid,  but 
now  he  knows  and  in  time  his  anger  will  die 
away." 

"  You  do  not  know  him  so  well,  I  am 
afraid,"  he  said.  "  To  be  struck  by  one  he 
despised  so  much  was  an  insult  he  will  never 
forget  or  forgive.  Hope,  for  us,  must  count 
on  something  else,  yet  we  must  not  be  with- 
out hope.  You  know  the  saying,  '  Even  a 
calamity,  if  left  alone  three  years,  may  turn 
into  a  fortune.' " 

She  was  strangely  happy  again.  It  seemed 
quite  natural  now  that  they  should  face  hope- 
fully forward.  She  looked  out  over  the 


68  jft  the   Gmperor's  Wish 

shining  sea  and  began  to  build  dreams,  queer 
dreams  that  left  the  Now  by  unknown  paths 
and  reached  the  Then  by  unmarked  roads. 
But  always  they  arrived  there,  and  it  was  a 
country  of  unclouded  happiness  where  she 
and  he  lived  in  perfect  peace.  A  long  time 
he  sat  silent,  watching  her  with  eyes  that 
signaled  his  mood.  At  length  she  turned  to 
hint  with  a  little  sigh. 

"  I  must  go  home,"  she  said.  "  My  father 
will  say  I  stay  very  long  at  the  shrine  and  go 
very  often." 

"  So  long  a  time  and  yet  so  short,"  he 
said,  and  rose  to  his  feet.  An  unpleasant 
thought  crossed  his  mind  and  she  saw  its 
shadow. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

"  To-morrow  the  work  at  the  bank  begins," 
he  replied,  "and  I  must  go  there." 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  are  you  not  glad  of  it? 
It  is  an  honorable  occupation." 

He  gave  her  a  puzzled,  sorrowful  look  that 
brought  a  peal  of  merry  laughter. 

"  Is  it  so  bad  as  that  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  When  I  go  to  the  bank  I  cannot  come 
here,"  he  said  gravely.  "  Then  when  shall  I 
see  you  ?  " 


tho   Emperor's  Wish  69 


At  once  her  own  face  fell.  "  You  are  here 
now,"  she  said,  "  and  that  was  enough.  I  did 
not  think  of  to-morrow." 

"  Not  merely  to-morrow,"  he  rejoined, 
"  but  all  the  days  after  that." 

"  Two,"  she  answered  lightly  ;  "  there  will 
be  always  two  in  seven.  We  can  thank  the 
new  ways  that  have  brought  us  Saturday  and 
Sunday." 

"Yes,  two  in  seven,"  he  responded,  so 
gloomily  that  she  laughed  outright. 

"  Greedy  !  "  she  cried.  "  Know  you  not 
that  the  avaricious  man  prepares  his  own 
downfall?  How  much  better  are  two  days 
than  none,  as  it  has  been  so  long  ?  "  She  held 
up  her  slender  fingers  and  made  as  if  to  count 
the  years  he  had  been  away.  "  And  for  the 
other  days,"  she  went  on,  "  there  are  paper  and 
ink  and  brushes,  when  one  knows  how  to 
write." 

She  was  too  happy  at  her  new  discovery  of 
him  to  let  so  small  a  matter  as  this  conjure 
up  clouds.  He  caught  the  contagion  and  her 
smile  chased  away  his  frown. 

"  Good  thought  !  "  he  said.  "  Now  I  know 
why  that  troublesome  art  was  taught  me." 

So,    laughing    and    jesting,    they    started 


7O  jft  the   Emperor's  Wish 

down  the  hill.  They  had  almost  reached  the 
bottom  when  a  new  difficulty  arose. 

"  If  I  send  you  a  letter,"  he  said  soberly, 
"  will  not  Kudo-san  know  it  ?  " 

She  had  thought  of  that,  too,  only  it  did  not 
disturb  her. 

"  In  the  roof  over  the  gate,"  she  said, 
"  there  is  a  split  in  the  shingle.  Underneath 
one  could  easily  leave  a  letter  that  would 
never  be  seen  unless  someone  should  look 
for  it." 

But  he,  more  practical,  at  once  objected. 
It  would  be  tempting  fate  to  leave  their  let- 
ters where  any  day  her  father  might  so  easily 
find  them.  If  he  should  chance  to  look  over- 
closely  at  the  gate,  or  perhaps  to  have  it  re- 
paired when  a  letter  was  there,  discovery 
would  be  certain. 

"  If  you  do  not  enter  the  tiger's  den,"  she 
said,  "  you  cannot  catch  her  cub." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  answered ;  "  if  one  is  patient 
by  and  by  the  cub  will  come  out.  There  is  a 
better  place.  In  the  corner  of  the  yard  by  the 
plum  tree  there  is  a  big  bamboo  post  in  the 
angle  of  the  fence.  To-night,  after  dark,  I 
will  make  a  cap  for  it,  and  in  the  hollow 
beneath  shall  be  our  letter  box." 


the   Gmperor's  W/sA 


11  Yes,"  she  said,  "  that  is  best." 

Satisfied  of  his  skill  and  ingenuity  she  gave 
him  her  prettiest  bow  and  a  radiant  smile,  and 
moved  down  the  path  toward  Timber  Street. 
He  watched  until  the  far  turn  shut  out  from 
his  view  the  dainty  figure  in  its  silver-gray 
kimono  and  iris-violet  obi,  and  then  thought- 
fully took  his  own  way  homeward. 

It  was  in  the  time  of  "Little  Heat  "  when 
Soichi  fitted  the  cap  to  the  post.  So  cleverly 
he  did  his  work  that  no  one  could  tell,  except 
by  the  closest  examination,  that  there  was  a 
seam  in  the  bamboo.  On  the  inside  he  made  a 
deep  groove  in  the  post  and  fastened  a  tongue 
to  the  cap  so  that  it  should  fit  tight  always  in 
the  same  place  and  never  betray  what  had 
been  done.  Often,  after  that,  he  would  watch 
his  chance  and  when  no  one  was  in  sight  slip 
up  to  the  post  and  stealthily  lift  the  cap  to 
take  out  or  put  in  a  letter. 

The  days  passed  swiftly,  in  spite  of  his  in- 
ability to  see  O-Mitsu,  for  the  work  at  the 
bank  was  new  and  hard,  and  as  the  business 
prospered  there  was  much  for  him  to  do.  So 
Handon  and  Donkatu  (half  Sunday  and  Sun- 
day), as  the  country  people  still  call  them, 
came  around  more  quickly  than  he  had 


72  jfa  the  Gmperor's  Wish 

thought,  and  nearly  always  they  had  con- 
trived to  arrange  a  meeting.  Oftenest  it  was 
at  their  favorite  big  rock  back  of  the  pines, 
where  there  was  seldom  a  straggling  sight- 
seer to  interrupt  them.  But  sometimes,  on 
holidays  and  festivals,  it  would  be  at  the  big 
Buddhist  temple ;  and  that  they  liked  less,  for 
the  crowd  interfered,  and  it  was  difficult  to 
find  a  secluded  place  or  to  have  more  than  a 
few  words  together  without  observation. 

The  weeks  ran  on  into  months,  and  the 
period  of  the  "  Cold  Dew "  came  all  too 
quickly,  with  its  short  afternoons  and  early 
descending  sun,  that  cut  down  their  brief 
hour  together  and  sent  them  home  to  write 
more  letters.  For  the  conversation  of  lovers 
is  as  never-ending  in  the  Mikado's  realm  as 
in  the  less  fettered  courtships  of  happier  lands, 
and  there  was  always  so  very  much  between 
them  that  had  to  be  said  and  answered. 

And  now  a  new,  dread  subject  was  looming 
up.  All  over  the  land  traveled  the  same  sin- 
ister whisper,  and  men  said  the  Dragon  was 
rousing  himself,  and  talked  of  the  terrible 
rustling  of  his  great  scales.  The  winds  of 
war  were  beginning  to  blow  lightly  from  the 
north,  and  far  and  near  the  people  waited 


the   Gmperor's  %S/sA  73 


anxiously  to  see  if  they  could  not  be  diverted. 
As  time  went  on,  and  stronger  and  stronger 
came  the  hostile  currents,  more  and  more 
soberly  Soichi  and  O-Mitsu  discussed  the 
darkening  future.  Much  it  meant  to  them, 
for  Soichi  would  be  a  soldier.  His  last  birth- 
day had  brought  him  to  the  age  for  conscrip- 
tion service,  and  although  his  university 
course  would  give  him  some  exemption,  he 
was  not  one  to  claim  it,  if  the  Emperor  were 
engaged  in  deadly  strife  ;  nor  indeed  would 
O-Mitsu  have  him.  As  autumn  dipped  into 
winter  the  wrath  of  the  people  toward  their 
great  antagonist  grew  and  deepened,  and 
anxiety  lest  there  should  be  war  gave  place  to 
desire  for  it. 

They  were  sitting  again  by  their  great 
rock  one  late  fall  afternoon  when  the  grass 
was  brown  and  dead,  and  through  the  bare 
branches  that  waved  above  the  housetops  the 
wind  blew  bleak  and  cold  from  off  a  sullen 
sea.  They  had  talked  of  war  and  what  it 
might  bring  to  them.  Each  felt  it  would  be 
the  end  of  all  their  dreams,  for  a  soldier's  duty 
is  to  die  for  the  Emperor,  and  Soichi  would 
not  come  back  when  once  he  had  been  called 
to  the  front. 
6 


74 


the  Gmperor's  Wish 


"  It  will  be  a  very  great  honor  for  me,"  he 
said  at  length,  turning  from  a  long,  silent 
look  at  the  wide-stretching  water. 

She  glanced  up  at  him  questioningly. 

"  It  is  the  first  time  a  Kutami  has  had  the 
privilege  of  serving  the  Empire  as  a  soldier," 
he  went  on,  "  and  I  shall  be  very  proud  to  go. 
It  has  done  a  great  deal  for  us." 

She  made  no  answer,  but  sat  with  her  slen- 
der hands  folded  across  her  lap. 

"  Will  you  pray  to  Kwannon  when  I  am 
gone  ?  "  he  asked  gravely. 

"  Yes,  and  to  Shaka,"  she  said  softly. 

"  Ah,  to  him  also,"  he  returned ;  "  yes,  to 
him,  too.  We  commit  it  all  to  Shaka." 

The  low-hanging  sun  warned  them  that 
their  all-too-short  hour  was  ended,  and  they 
started  down  the  familiar  path  in  silence.  At 
the  turn,  where  they  separated,  he  paused,  and 
she  looked  up  into  his  eyes. 

"  To  Shaka,  too,"  he  said,  and  strode  on. 


IX 

JHERE  was  plenty  of  work  at  the 
new  bank,  and  Kutami  divided  his 
time  between  it  and  his  old  af- 
fairs. In  the  street  one  morning 
as  he  was  going  to  the  bank  he  came  upon 
Chukei,  the  nakodo,  of  whom  he  had  not  a 
thought  since  that  day  he  saw  him  at  Kudo- 
san's  gate. 

"  Good  morning,  Chukei-san,"  he  said ; 
"  what  young  people  are  you  trying  to  make 
happy  now?" 

"  Not  your  son,  surely,"  answered  the  mid- 
dleman, instantly  scenting  the  possibility  of  a 

75 


76  Jft  tA0  Gmperor's  Wish 

fortunate  stroke,  and  bowing  very  low  to 
make  a  good  impression. 

"  Ho,  ho ! "  cried  Chobei,  with  a  hearty 
laugh.  "  You  are  quite  right.  Surely  not  my 
son.  He  has  no  thought  of  marrying  yet." 

"  Be  not  oversure,"  replied  the  nakodo. 
"  One  never  can  tell  what  is  in  the  minds  of 
these  likely  young  fellows." 

"  That  is  so,"  returned  the  banker ;  "  but  I 
think  I  know  my  son  quite  well  enough.  I 
saw  you  coming  from  Kudo-san's  house  a 
while  ago.  That  must  have  been  a  proposal  for 
his  pretty  daughter?"  He  chuckled  at  his 
shrewdness  in  guessing. 

Chukei  was  not  much  inclined  to  discuss  his 
clients'  affairs,  but  he  was  tempted  by  the 
hope  of  gaining  a  new  one,  and  besides,  he 
loved  a  bit  of  gossip. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  grinning  sheepishly, 
"  and  a  very  good  proposal  it  was,  too." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Chobei,  with  neighborly  in- 
terest. "  I  had  not  heard  of  the  wedding." 

"  No,  and  you  will  not,"  replied  the  match- 
maker, a  little  sourly,  for  it  always  angered 
him  to  think  of  the  good  business  he  had  lost 
because  of  O-Mitsu's  refusal.  "  My  proposal 
was  not  accepted." 


th*  Gmperor's  Wish  77 


"  Dear  me  !  "  exclaimed  Kutami  ;  "  that  is 
very  strange.  Who  was  the  man  ?  " 

"  Yamamoto-san,  the  silk  merchant,"  re- 
sponded the  nakodo.  "  His  son  is  one  of  the 
finest  young  men  in  the  city." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  the  banker,  "  I  should 
think  any  man  would  be  glad  to  have  his 
daughter  make  such  a  fortunate  marriage. 
What  did  Kudo-san  say  ?  " 

"  That  was  the  greatest  surprise,"  answered 
old  Chukei.  "  He  said  his  daughter  did  not 
wish  to  marry." 

"Well,  well!"  cried  the  banker.  "Who 
ever  heard  of  a  girl  refusing  to  marry  when 
her  father  wished  her  too?  Things  have 
changed  very  much  in  Japan  when  that  can 
happen." 

"  They  have  indeed,"  replied  the  nakodo. 
"Least  of  all  would  one  have  thought  it  of 
Kudo-san,  but  it  is  quite  true.  I  have  been 
there  three  times  since  summer,  each  time 
with  a  very  excellent  marriage  to  offer,  and 
always  it  has  been  the  same  answer." 

"  I  wonder  what  the  reason  can  be,"  said 
the  banker  thoughtfully.  "  It  is  certainly 
very  strange.  Good  morning,  Chukei-san," 
and  Chobei  went  on  to  the  bank,  leaving 


78  Jfi  tho  Gmperor's  Wish 

the  middleman  quite  uncertain  whether  he 
had  made  a  good  investment  of  his  gossip 
or  not. 

Jukichi's  neighbors  had  not  missed  the 
visits  of  the  nakodo  to  his  house,  and  as  he 
had  only  one  daughter  and  there  was  no  wed- 
ding, it  was  quite  evident  that  several  pro- 
posals for  O-Mitsu  had  been  rejected.  It  was 
whispered  about,  in  Lower  Timber  Street,  that 
it  was  the  girl  herself  who  had  made  the  re- 
fusals. But  if  Jukichi  had  any  regrets,  they 
never  appeared.  He  loved  the  spirited  girl 
and  her  gentle  ways  about  the  house,  and  it 
mattered  nothing  to  him  if  the  neighborhood 
gossips  talked  of  the  scandal  of  a  girl  who 
dared  disclose  a  preference  of  her  own  con- 
trary to  the  wish  of  her  father.  Such  a 
wonder  might  not  be  heard  of  again  in  all 
Japan.  He  did  not  care.  He  enjoyed  his 
home  and  his  ease,  and  she  was  the  great 
factor  in  both. 

Perhaps  if  he  had  been  less  fond,  he  might 
have  been  more  suspicious.  Yet  it  had  not 
occurred  to  the  simple  Samurai  that  there 
could  be  reasons  for  his  daughter's  hot  dis- 
temper with  the  hopeful  authors  of  Chukei's 
vicarious  proposals  other  than  her  own  demon- 


Mff  Gmperor's  2£f/sA  79 

strative  desire  to  remain  in  the  old  home  with 
him.  The  clever  girl  was  shrewder  than  he 
guessed.  But  who  shall  follow  the  blind  trail 
of  Love  and  pick  out  his  footprints  with  the 
certainty  which  may  say,  "  There  he  stepped," 
or  "  Here  he  stopped,"  or  "  See  where  he 
ran!" 

There  was  lively  interest  in  the  house  in 
Azalea  Street  that  evening  when  Chobei  re- 
counted his  conversation  with  the  nakodo. 
O-Koyo  listened  with  the  kindly  sympathy 
that  ever  kindles  the  matchmaking  maternal 
heart.  As  for  Soichi,  he  heard  with  a  grow- 
ing feeling  of  impending  disaster  that  made 
it  difficult  for  him  to  conceal  his  emotion. 
O-Mitsu  had  never  told  him  anything  of  this, 
and  if  she  had  been  rejoiced  at  the  discovery 
of  qualities  in  him  which  she  had  not  an- 
ticipated, it  was  his  turn  to  be  surprised  at 
her  ability  to  keep  to  herself  a  subject  which 
she  knew  would  be  so  disquieting  to  him.  He 
got  out  his  little  writing-box  and  began  a  let- 
ter to  her.  O-Koyo  sighed  fondly  as  she 
glanced  at  the  corner  where  he  sat  with  his 
ink  and  brush,  busily  covering  a  long  roll  of 
paper  with  she  knew  not  what  words. 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  "  if  only  one  of  the  pro- 


80  Jft  M*    Gmperor's   Wish 

posals  had  been  for  Soichi  perhaps  she  would 
not  have  refused." 

"  Hut !  "  cried  her  husband  sharply.  "  Our 
son  marry  the  daughter  of  Kudo-san !  What 
can  you  be  thinking  of  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ? "  she  replied  quickly,  un- 
daunted by  his  scornful  look.  "  Strange 
things  happen  nowadays.  Stranger  than  that 
have  happened  already,  why  not  again?  We 
are  rich  and  they  are  very  poor." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  returned  Chobei  soberly. 
"  That  is  true.  But  money  is  not  so  much  yet, 
in  Japan,  and  many  more  very  strange  things 
must  come  to  pass  before  it  is.  Besides,  we 
are  Eta  and  they  Samurai." 

"  No,  no !  "  cried  his  wife,  with  unaccus- 
tomed daring ;  "  we  were  Eta  and  they  were 
Samurai.  Now  all  that  is  ended,  and  you 
have  the  best  cause  to  know  it  who  were  your- 
self associated  so  closely  with  this  Kudo-san 
in  the  school.  To  be  sure  we  are  only  Com- 
moners yet,  but  who  knows  what  may  not 
come?  If  there  should  be  war,  what  oppor- 
tunities for  advancement  may  it  not  bring? 
One  who  can  do  for  himself  what  you  have 
done  may  do  a  great  deal  more.  Why  should 
not  you,  or  Soichi  himself,  win  the  promotion 


Jft  tAff   Gmporor's  Wish  8 1 

that  would  make  old  Kudo-san  glad  to  con- 
sent?" 

She  paused,  excited  and  trembling,  sur- 
prised at  herself  for  making  so  much  argu- 
ment against  her  husband.  Chobei  sat 
looking  at  her  in  astonishment.  Never  before 
had  she  shown  such  feeling. 

"  Whatever  is  the  world  coming  to,"  he 
exclaimed  at  length,  "  when  foolish  women 
can  talk  like  that !  " 

He  filled  his  little  pipe  and  exhausted  the 
pellet  of  tobacco  almost  at  one  puff.  But 
Soichi  said  nothing  at  all,  and  went  on  mak- 
ing his  brush  fly  like  a  dragon  over  the  paper 
as  if  he  had  heard  not  a  word  of  their  talk. 
O-Koyo  said  no  more,  and  her  husband 
smoked  furiously,  rapping  his  pipe  on  the 
hibachi  to  knock  out  the  ashes,  as  if  he  meant 
to  smash  it  to  pieces.  At  length  Soichi 
rolled  up  his  yards  of  affectionate  ideographs 
and  slipped  them  deftly  inside  the  long,  nar- 
row envelope,  with  sprays  of  delicate  pink 
cherry  blossoms  trailing  over  it.  Then  he 
went  out  into  the  night  and  stole  down  to  the 
corner  of  Kudo-san's  fence.  Only  the  plum- 
tree  saw  him  slip  the  cap  of  the  bamboo  post 
and  lay  his  love  letter  carefully  inside.  Then 


82  J^t  the   Gmporor's  Wish 

he  strode  off  toward  the  path  up  the  hill.  His 
heart  was  in  a  tumult.  Straight  up  to  the 
old  shrine  he  went,  paused  a  moment  before 
it,  and  hurried  on  to  their  trysting-plaoe  at  the 
big  rock.  There  he  sat  down,  and  a  long  time 
pondered  the  strange,  exciting  news  he  had 
heard  that  evening.  When  he  returned  he 
found  his  father  still  silently  smoking  rapid 
pipefuls  and  O-Koyo  sitting  beside  him  with 
never  a  word,  her  hands  busy  with  sewing. 
As  he  entered  Chobei  looked  up  and  asked : 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  " 

"  I  went  out  to  walk,"  answered  Soichi, 
"and  climbed  up  to  the  shrine  on  the  hill- 
top." 

Perhaps  it  was  his  talk  with  the  nakodo, 
perhaps  it  was  the  suggestion  of  his  wife  that 
had  set  Chobei  to  thinking  definitely  about  the 
future  of  his  son.  Theretofore  there  had  been 
only  a  vague  recognition  of  the  fact  that 
sometime  Soichi  would  marry.  Now  sud- 
denly it  carae  to  him  that  the  boy  was  grown 
to  man's  estate,  that  the  condition  he  half 
dreaded,  half  expected,  was  already  come. 
With  the  realization  came  back  the  mental 
picture  of  old  Chukei.  It  was  time  to  look 
about  them,  he  thought,  to  consider  the  pos- 


Jft  the  Gm/>oror's  WtsA  83 

sibility  of  finding  a  suitable  mate  for  his 
promising  son,  and,  perhaps,  to  employ  the 
middleman.  After  a  time  Chobei  put  aside 
his  pipe  and  began  to  speak  of  what  he  had 
been  thinking.  Soichi  listened  like  the  dutiful 
son  he  was,  and  O-Koyo  heard  gladly,  for 
even  if  it  were  not  to  be  the  beautiful  daugh- 
ter of  the  Samurai,  she  would  be  happy  to  see 
the  son  of  whom  she  was  so  proud  well  mar- 
ried, and  the  daughter  in  the  house  would 
make  her  cares  much  lighter.  When  at  length 
there  came  a  pause  in  which  Soichi  could 
speak,  it  was  with  an  air  of  quiet  unconcern 
that  he  said : 

"  But  first  I  must  do  my  service  in  the 
army.  If  war  does  come,  perhaps  there  will 
be  no  need  for  Chukei-san." 

Then,  because  they  were  alone  in  their  own 
privacy,  where  no  outside  eye  or  ear  might 
see  or  hear,  and  it  was  not  necessary  to  con- 
ceal their  genuine  emotions,  they  gave  full  rein 
to  the  expression  of  their  sober  feelings,  and 
the  mother,  who  would  be  proudly  scornful 
of  tears  or  outward  show  of  grief  if  the  time 
should  come  to  send  her  boy  to  the  hardships 
and  hazards  of  camps  and  battlefields,  gave 
the  hot,  protesting  drops  unheeded  flow.  But 


84  Jft   Mtf    Cmporor's    Wish 

Soichi  showed  the  mettle  that  was  in  him, 
saying  calmly: 

"  But  if  the  Emperor  wishes  it  1 " 
Reverently  the  Commoner  and  his  wife 
bowed  at  the  mention  of  that  name  and  the 
suggestion  of  his  possible  desire.  There  was 
no  more  loyal  family  in  all  his  realm  than 
they,  and  if  he  needed  the  sacrifice  of  all  they 
had,  and  life  itself,  they  had  only  to  know  his 
need  to  make  the  offering.  The  proudest  op- 
portunity life  held  was  to  die  for  him,  and  it 
was  with  heartfelt  acquiescence  that  they 
heard  their  son  add : 

"  Then  I  should  be  sorry  that  I  had  only 
one  life  to  give  him." 


IHREE  times,  he  told  my  father, 
he  had  made  offer  of  marriage 
for  you,  and  each  time  it  was 
refused." 

Soichi  looked  down  upon  her  where  she  sat 
by  the  big  rock,  and  his  black  eyes  shone  with 
a  great  tenderness.  She  did  not  look  up,  but 
gazed  away  toward  the  sea  and  made  no 
reply.  All  the  time  since  she  had  read  his 
letter  she  had  wondered  what  to  say  to  him. 
For  she  had  wished  earnestly  that  he  might 
not  know.  There  was  trouble  enough  al- 
ready for  them,  and  it  could  do  no  good  to 

85 


86  jft  the   €mp0ror's  Wish 

tell  him.  It  could  only  add  to  his  disquiet, 
and  as  it  was  they  seldom  met  without  some 
shadow  of  their  specter  falling  over  them.  So 
she  meant  to  bear  this  alone,  and  if  by  and  by 
the  barriers  were  destroyed,  then  it  would  add 
to  their  joy.  But  now  it  had  come,  through 
the  foolish  gabble  of  old  Chukei.  She  looked 
up  at  him  standing  there,  so  strong  and 
manly,  and  the  sadness  ^she  saw  smote  her 
heart. 

"  Three  times,"  he  repeated. 

The  old  roguish  smile  came  into  her  eyes. 
"  But  none  of  them  was  from  a  banker,"  she 
said  softly. 

As  always,  she  had  only  to  seem  merry  to 
drive  away  his  sober  mood,  and  now  the 
light-hearted  answer  brought  its  quick  smile 
in  return. 

"But  why  did  you  not  tell  me?"  he  de- 
manded. 

"Thou  art  dull,  Big  One,"  she  answered, 
"  to  ask  me  such  questions.  Surely  thou  must 
have  guessed." 

"  I  am  not  quick  with  riddles,"  he  said. 

Manlike  he  had  but  one  way.  He  must 
know  it  all  and  she  must  tell.  The  intuition 
that  would  have  conjured  up  the  whole  scene 


the   Gmperor's  Wish  87 


for  her  was  utterly  lacking  in  him,  and  as  she 
watched  him,  she  saw  the  shadow  settle  on 
his  brow  that  warned  her  of  his  shifting 
mood. 

"  For  one,"  she  said  quickly,  "  how  could 
I  tell  when  you  were  not  here,  and  thought  so 
little  of  me  you  had  not  even  told  me  where 
you  were  ?  " 

He  did  not  understand,  and  she  laughed  at 
his  puzzled  look.  Then  he  saw. 

"  So  long  ago,"  he  said,  "  before  I  came 
home?" 

"  Is  it  so  very  long  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  do 
not  remember.  It  seemed  but  yesterday  I  saw 
you  here.  How  many  years  is  it,  man  to 
whom  it  has  been  so  long  ?  " 

He  gazed  at  her  bewildered.  He  was  no 
match  for  her  at  such  fencing  of  wits.  He 
flung  himself  down  beside  her  and  said 
shortly  : 

"  Have  the  kindness  to  explain,  if  you 
please.  Do  you  not  see  how  I  am  tor- 
tured?" 

"  No,  no  !  "  she  cried,  "  not  that  !  Were  they 
not  all  refused?  For  what  are  you  tortured? 
Ah,  if  you  had  been  a  woman  you  would  have 
been  taught  in  childhood  how  foolish  it  is  to 


88  Jft  the  Gmporor's  Wish 

admit  jealous  thoughts.  Well,  then,  since  you 
insist  so  much,  the  first  one  was  refused — I 
did  not  know  why.  My  father  gave  me  my 
wish  and  I  said  No.  Then  one  day  I  went  to 
visit  an  old  shrine  I  love  very  much,  and  I 
found  out  why.  After  that,  with  the  others — 
there  was  no  other  reason.  Now  is  the  tor- 
ture ended  ?  " 

He  turned  to  her  and  the  smile  in  his  eyes 
was  complete  reward.  "  I  am  very  glad,"  he 
said. 

"  And  very  foolish,"  she  added  softly. 

"  I  wished  very  much  to  know,"  he  said 
after  a  pause.  "  To-morrow  I  am  summoned 
to  the  temple  for  examination." 

"  To-morrow !  "  she  cried.  She  knew  it 
was  to  come  but  had  not  thought  it  was  so 
near.  "  To-morrow !  "  she  repeated,  whisper- 
ing, as  if  to  herself.  "  Are  you  glad  to  go  ? 
Perhaps  you  will  not  be  taken." 

"  Nay,"  he  said,  "  if  there  is  war  I  shall  be 
glad  and  proud,  and  if  there  is  no  war  the 
time  will  soon  be  ended." 

"  Very  soon,"  she  said  demurely,  and  made 
as  if  counting  on  her  fingers.  "  When  a  few 
months  may  seem  so  many  years  how  long 
will  three  years  be?" 


the  Gmporor's  Wish  89 

"  Long  enough  for  more  refusals,"  he  an- 
swered, and  she  laughed  at  the  retort. 

"  But  it  is  by  lot  that  they  are  chosen,"  she 
said,  "  and  it  may  not  fall  on  you." 

He  smiled  fondly  at  her  eagerness  and  in- 
nocence. "  Yes,  by  lot,"  he  answered.  "  But 
your  Samurai  policemen  know  well  where  to 
make  the  lots  fall." 

She  knew  what  he  meant.  Young  men  as 
tall  and  sturdy  as  he  did  not  escape,  even 
though  the  selection  was  by  chance.  There 
was  a  keen-eyed,  patriotic,  military  intelli- 
gence that  supervised  the  casting  of  the  lots, 
and  the  girl,  who  gloried  in  his  strength,  fore- 
saw the  certainty  that  he  would  be  chosen. 
Nor  was  he.  in  truth,  unwilling  to  go.  If  it 
should  happen  that  the  wheel  of  the  lottery 
left  him  free  to  stay  at  home,  as  it  did  some 
quite  as  fit  as  he  for  service,  he  would  accept 
the  result  with  a  clean  conscience.  For  brief 
and  infrequent  as  were  his  opportunities  for 
seeing  O-Mitsu,  even  they  would  be  lost  if 
he  were  in  the  army.  Thus  far  his  loyalty  and 
sense  of  duty  to  the  empire  let  him  go.  Be- 
fore the  lots  were  drawn  he  could  hope  that 
they  would  miss  him.  When  the  decision  was 
made,  if  he  were  taken  he  would  set  his  heart 
7 


90  jft  the   Gmperor's   Wish 

to  his  work  with  a  will  and  devotion  no  tie 
of  home,  no  merely  personal  consideration, 
would  ever  cause  to  waver  for  an  instant. 
And  of  all  who  knew  and  loved  him  none 
would  urge  him  on  more  eagerly  than  the  girl. 
She  was  looking  at  him  proudly  as  he  sat 
before  her,  and  it  came  to  her  that  he  was  of 
the  build  and  stature  sought  for  throughout 
the  empire  for  the  distinguished  regiments 
which  had  the  honor  of  bearing  the  imperial 
name. 

"  You  will  go  to  the  Guards,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  answered  quickly ;  "  I  could 
not  hope  for  such  an  honor." 

"  Honor !  "  she  said  with  a  smile.  "  It  will 
be  an  honor  to  the  Guards  to  have  such  a 
soldier." 

That  was  too  much  and  he  laughed  at  the 
joke.  "  But  I  am  not  a  soldier,"  he  pro- 
tested. 

"  You  will  be,"  she  answered  confidently. 
"  There  are  some  things  about  you,  Big  One, 
which  you  do  not  know  yourself,  but  I  know. 
Come,  it  is  time  to  go.  You  must  drink  no 
sake  to-night,  and  sleep  well,  to  be  ready  for 
the  examination." 

There  was  plenty  of  company  for  Soichi  at 


Me  Gmperor's  WtsA  91 

the  temple  the  next  morning.  All  the  young 
men  of  his  age  in  the  district  had  been  sum- 
moned, and  there  was  a  clatter  of  eager  talk 
among  them  as  they  awaited  their  turns  with 
the  examiners.  But  Soichi  had  little  to  say. 
He  heard  with  amusement  the  boastful  words 
of  some  who  knew  themselves  to  be  at  the 
threshold  of  distinction  and  honor,  and  he 
had  a  strange  sympathy  for  some  who  hoped 
to  escape.  For  himself,  a  night  of  agitated 
reflection,  sleepless  in  spite  of  O-Mitsu's 
parting  injunction,  had  brought  him  a  day  of 
calm  indifference.  He  was  ready  for  what- 
ever might  come.  The  businesslike  surgeon, 
working  rapidly  but  carefully,  pronounced  his 
verdict  with  prompt  decision,  and  one  after 
another  was  set  free  or  sent  on  to  the  re- 
cruiting captain.  At  length  it  was  Soichi's 
turn.  The  brusque  doctor's  eyes  glistened  as 
he  saw  the  rippling  muscles  of  the  broad 
shoulders,  and  an  exclamation  of  professional 
pleasure  broke  from  his  lips  as  he  caught  the 
rhythmic  note  of  the  deep  breathing. 

"  Lungs  like  a  bellows,"  he  cried  to  his 
assistant. 

Weight,  height,  and  measurements  were 
quickly  taken,  and  with  an  enthusiasm  he  had 


92  Jft  the   Gmporor's  Wish 

not  displayed  in  many  a  day  the  surgeon 
called  to  the  recording  sergeant: 

"  Ichiban"  (first-class). 

Already  Soichi  knew  his  fate.  His  uni- 
versity degree  would  take  the  place  of  the  re- 
cruiting captain's  mental  examination,  and 
after  that  there  would  be  only  the  certainty  of 
the  lots.  It  did  not  take  the  captain  long  to 
repeat  the  surgeon's  "  Ichiban,"  and  as  Soichi 
turned  away  from  giving  his  record  at  the 
desk,  he  heard  the  recruiting  officer  say  to 
the  inspector  major,  who  had  just  come  in : 

"  There  is  one  for  the  Guards.  Just  look 
at  him." 

O-Mitsu's  judgment  was  confirmed,  and  he 
went  home  to  await  the  notice  of  his  selec- 
tion, and  to  write  perhaps  his  last  letter  to 
her.  For  he  would  not  dare  to  write  to  her 
home  when  he  was  away,  and  they  had  no 
friend  whom  they  would  trust  with  their 
secret.  It  was  a  sober  letter.  There  seemed 
little  chance  now  that  war  would  be  avoided. 
Already  men  said  that  the  throat  of  the 
Dragon  had  been  touched,  and  throughout  the 
Empire  preparations  were  going  on  rapidly 
for  the  time  when  he  should  strike. 

With    simple    directness    Soichi    told    his 


Jft  the   Gmperor's  Wish  93 

news,  and  spoke  proudly  of  the  intimation  he 
had  had  that  he  should  go  to  the  Guards. 
There  would  be  a  few  weeks  of  drill  and  pre- 
liminary work,  he  supposed,  in  the  barracks 
at  division  headquarters  in  the  near-by  city, 
and  it  might  be  that  once  or  twice  more  he 
should  have  the  opportunity  of  seeing  her  be- 
fore he  went  to  Tokyo  to  join  his  regiment. 
After  that  would  come  the  war  and  the 
battlefield.  She  would  know  he  did  not  say 
it  to  boast,  but  he  meant  to  do  a  soldier's  duty. 
It  would  have  been  sweet,  if  there  had  been 
no  war  (he  spoke  of  it  as  if  it  were  already 
begun),  to  live  on  there  with  her,  for  in  some 
way  it  would  have  worked  out  for  them.  But 
that  was  impossible  now;  a  dream  to  be  for- 
gotten. The  dearest  wish  of  his  heart  was  to 
die  for  the  Emperor,  and  he  prayed  only  that 
Shaka  would  permit  him  to  meet  his  fate 
gloriously  and  with  honor. 

That  was  all.  Not  a  word  to  her  of  the 
love  that  filled  his  heart.  Not  a  message  of 
hope  or  farewell,  not  a  hint  of  constancy  or 
patience.  All  that  was  behind  him.  His  duty 
lay  to  the  future  and  to  the  grim  chance  of 
war. 

It  was  a  raw,  cold  night,  with  a  bitter  wind 


94  Jf*  Mff  Emperor's  Wish 

searching  through  the  bare  branches  of  the 
plum  tree,  and  Soichi  shivered  as  he  lifted  the 
cap  of  the  bamboo  post  and  thrust  in  his  let- 
ter. Then  he  patted  the  cap  back  into  place 
and  turned  away,  nor  noticed  that  a  telltale 
corner  of  the  envelope  projected  through  the 
joint  he  had  not  closed  tightly.  And  of  all 
the  evenings  in  the  year,  that  was  the  one  Ju- 
kichi  chose  to  visit  the  plum  tree. 

Next  day  the  notification  came.  Soichi  had 
been  selected  for  immediate  service  and  was 
to  go  to  the  Guards.  His  record  in  the  mili- 
tary work  at  school  was  such  that  the  pre- 
liminary training  at  adjacent  division  head- 
quarters would  be  waived  and  he  would  report 
directly  to  his  regiment.  He  would  start  the 
following  day. 

He  went  to  the  bank  and  finished  up  his 
work  there  in  preparation  for  indefinite  ab- 
sence. Then  he  wrote  a  little  note  to 
O-Mitsu,  telling  her  the  orders  he  had  re- 
ceived, and  started  home.  The  early  winter 
evening  had  fallen  before  he  reached  the 
house  in  Timber  Street,  and  he  stopped  at  the 
bamboo  post  to  leave  his  note  and  perhaps  to 
find  a  letter  from  her.  He  lifted  the  cap  with 
excited  eagerness  and  felt  in  the  hollow. 


jft  the   Gmperor's  Wish  95 

There,  sure  enough,  was  a  letter.  He  took  it 
out  with  thumping  heart  and  dropped  in  his 
own;  then  hurried  around  the  corner  home, 
impatient  for  light  to  read  her  words. 

The  first  glance  at  the  envelope  sent  a  queer 
sensation  of  coldness  through  his  heart,  as  if 
he  had  suddenly  been  struck  chill.  The  writ- 
ing was  strange.  The  delicate  characters  of 
O-Mitsu,  beautiful  as  the  work  of  a  famous 
artist,  were  replaced  by  the  strong,  heavy, 
brush  strokes  of  an  angry  man.  For  an  in- 
stant he  stared  at  them  with  mind  a  blank. 
Then  he  knew.  Someone  had  found  them 
out.  He  stood  as  if  paralyzed  by  shock, 
nerveless,  inert,  expecting  some  dire  calamity. 
Then  he  tore  open  the  envelope. 

A  single  glance  was  sufficient  to  tell  the 
story.  The  signature  was  the  first  thing  his 
eye  caught,  and  after  that  he  could  hardly  see 
the  other  words.  Those  two  dominated  every- 
thing— "  Kudo  Jukichi"— her  father!  The 
new-clothed  dignity  of  the  law  that  made  him 
a  Commoner  slipped  from  him  like  a  kimono 
unfastened ;  the  honor  of  his  new  service,  the 
pride  of  his  regimental  assignment  faded 
away,  and  he  was  again  the  Eta  of  the  old 
days,  outcast,  despised,  a  very  pollution.  All 


96  Jft  the  Gmperor's  Wish 

that  he  had  done,  all  that  his  father  had  done, 
the  position  they  had  won  in  the  community, 
the  consideration  of  their  fellows  were  made 
as  nothing  by  the  simple  apparition  of  those 
two  words. 

But  after  a  little  the  old  inborn  pride  of  race 
came  back  to  him  and  he  straightened  up  like 
a  new  man.  He  was  one  of  whom  the  Em- 
peror had  deigned  to  think;  what  should  he 
care  what  others  said?  What  mattered  it 
after  all  that  her  father  had  learned  their 
secret?  Nothing  but  that  was  changed,  and 
sooner  or  later  that  must  have  come.  He  had 
done  no  wrong.  He  was  not  changed.  The 
law  that  had  given  him  citizenship  was  still 
the  law.  The  Emperor's  care  was  over  him. 
It  was  his  Sovereign's  wish  that  he  was  what 
he  was.  He  took  new  heart  and  began  to  read 
the  letter.  His  brain  was  cooler  now.  In  the 
mental  numbness  that  followed  the  first  shock 
he  had  felt  only  a  vague  terror  of  the  fury  of 
Kudo.  But  as  he  read,  the  words  that  had 
seemed  so  awful  in  anticipation  lost  some  of 
their  dreaded  force.  The  wild  outburst  of 
rage  was  not  there,  but  in  its  place  a  cool,  fine 
sarcasm  that  cut  as  if  the  Samurai  who  wrote 
had  wielded  his  sword  instead. 


the  Gmperor's  Wf'sA  97 


A  curious  calm  possessed  him  as  he  finished 
the  letter.  The  haughty  pride  of  the  Samurai, 
his  bitter  contempt  for  the  "  outcast  "  who 
dared  presume  to  think  of  his  daughter,  his 
jeers  at  the  "  upstart  trader  "  had  lost  their 
sting.  It  was  a  soldier  of  the  Empire,  a  man 
of  the  Guards,  who  folded  the  letter  and  re- 
placed it  in  its  envelope.  With  a  smiling  face 
he  met  his  father  and  mother  and  sat  down  to 
supper. 

After  the  meal,  when  the  pipes  were 
brought  out,  he  handed  the  letter  to  his  father 
to  read.  It  might  as  well  be  told  now.  His 
poor  little  secret,  stripped  of  its  veil,  seemed 
very  small  and  miserable.  But  he  was  going 
away  to-morrow,  and  unknown  to-morrow 
might  do  what  it  would  with  him.  He  listened 
unmoved  while  Chobei  slowly  read  aloud  the 
bitter,  mocking  words  of  the  man  for  whom 
he  had  done  so  much.  O-Koyo  covered  her 
face  with  her  kimono  sleeves  and  wept  openly  ; 
but  father  and  son  sat  with  steady  features 
and  gave  no  sign,  save  that  when  the  reading 
was  ended  the  Commoner  laid  his  strong  arm 
across  his  son's  shoulder  in  shy,  unaccus- 
tomed caress,  and  said  : 

"  My  son  !  My  son  !  "    No  more. 


XI 

|HE  bee  stings  the  weeping  face," 
they  say  in  Japan,  and  Soichi 
proved  the  truth  of  the  proverb. 
It  was  a  queer  little  procession 
that  formed  at  the  house  in  Azalea  Street  to 
escort  him  to  the  railroad  station  whence  the 
train  was  to  bear  him  away  to  a  soldier's  life. 
A  dismal  rain  was  sifting  down  from  the 
sodden  clouds  that  seemed  to  hang  just  above 
the  housetops.  But  the  banner  that  set  forth 
his  name  and  the  fact  of  his  service  was 
borne  none  the  less  proudly  by  his  old  school- 
mates, and  the  friend  who  carried  the  small 
bundle  of  his  treasured  belongings  held  his 
head  none  the  less  erect  because  he  strode 
98 


Jft  the   Smperor's  Wish  99 

through  muddy  streets.  Already  the  Dragon 
was  beginning  to  roar,  and  his  voice  rang 
from  end  to  end  of  the  land.  It  was  a  last 
farewell  these  friends  were  taking  of  the 
young  soldier,  and  they  honored  him  and  en- 
vied the  glory  he  would  win.  There  was 
nothing  to  say.  In  silence  the  little  company 
walked  along.  But  as  they  passed  the  di- 
lapidated old  house  in  Timber  Street,  where 
the  plum  tree  stood  bare  and  desolate  in  the 
corner  of  the  yard,  Soichi,  daring  a  hasty 
glance,  raised  his  eyes  for  an  instant  to  the 
balcony  under  the  gable  end.  Just  for  a  mo- 
ment he  looked,  but  that  was  enough  to  set 
his  heart  a-thumping  as  it  had  not  done  for 
many  a  day.  For  in  that  instant  he  caught, 
at  a  parting  of  the  shoji  (paper  windows),  a 
glimpse  of  a  beautiful  face  and  the  flash  of 
eyes  undimmed  by  tears,  that  sent  him  a  mes- 
sage of  cheer  and  hope  and  constancy.  His 
heart  was  strangely  light  as  he  trudged  along 
behind  his  banner,  and  though  the  rain  fell 
never  so  hard  it  was  a  day  of  sunshine  for 
him. 

Then  came  the  weary  miles  of  railway  and 
the  army.  In  the  car  he  met  some  others 
going  up  to  join  his  regiment,  and  talk  of 


100  jft  the   Gmperor's  Wish 

peace  and  war  beguiled  the  miles  until  at  last 
the  train  pulled  into  Tokyo  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes Soichi  was  in  barracks.  The  proverb 
of  the  bee  and  the  weeping  face  came  home 
to  him  when  he  was  assigned  to  the  company 
in  which  Kudo  Kokan  was  a  lieutenant,  the 
old  Kokan  with  the  hot  heart  and  ready  in- 
solence he  knew  so  well. 

" Shikata-ga-nai "  (it  can't  be  helped),  said 
Soichi,  and  set  himself  to  do  his  work  with  all 
his  heart,  as  becomes  a  member  of  the  Guards. 

Fortunately  for  him  there  was  much  to  do 
and  not  much  time  which  Lieutenant  Kudo 
could  devote  to  personal  animosity. 

"  Ha,  the  Commoner !  "  he  cried  with  fine 
scorn  when  he  first  saw  Soichi. 

The  young  soldier  wondered  what  would 
come  next,  but  it  was  drill  hour,  and  Kokan 
had  no  chance  for  private  spleen.  He  was 
hampered  now  by  the  service,  and  the  near, 
sure  approach  of  war.  It  would  not  have  sur- 
prised Soichi  to  see  the  lieutenant  swing  his 
sword  in  execution  of  the  revenge  he  doubted 
not  had  been  cherished  all  the  years  since  that 
day  at  school.  But  he  did  not  comprehend 
fully  as  yet  the  restrictions  that  hedged  Ko- 
kan, and  that  first  taunt  of  "  Commoner  "  gave 


the   Smperors  WisA  IOI 

no  clew.  It  was  strange,  he  thought,  that  the 
lieutenant  had  not  said  "  Eta,"  but  the  hours 
of  "  goose  step  "  and  drill  that  followed  left 
him  no  time  to  think  of  other  things.  He  had 
been  adept  at  such  work  in  his  school,  but  now 
he  found  that  the  intervening  years  had  cost 
him  much  in  facility  and  precision,  and  it  was 
hard  work  to  be  always  ready  for  the  sharp 
command,  to  make  himself  again  the  machine 
needed  for  perfection.  When  it  was  over  and 
he  got  back  to  barracks,  he  was  tired  out, 
ready  enough  for  his  rice  and  fish,  and  after 
that  for  his  blankets.  When  he  thought  again 
of  Kokan's  taunt,  there  came  to  him  also  the 
recollection  of  his  defense  at  the  school  and 
he  understood.  It  had  been  passed  over 
lightly  then  that  he  had  accused  Kokan  of 
insulting  the  Emperor,  but  in  the  army  it 
might  not  go  so  easily  again.  It  would  be  in- 
deed a  serious  charge  for  an  officer  to  face. 
It  made  the  boy  smile  as  he  recognized  the 
new  bridle  on  his  lieutenant's  insolence. 

He  understood  now,  also,  that  there  would 
be  no  attempt  at  actual  violence.  For  himself 
he  did  not  fear.  Man  to  man,  with  equal 
arms,  he  was  ready  to  meet  Kokan  at  any 
time.  He  dreaded  disgrace  far  more  than 


IO2  Jtf>  ihe   Gmperor's  Wish 

death,  and  if  Kokan  should  attack  him  the  dis- 
honor would  affect  also  the  lieutenant  and  all 
his  family,  and  that  meant  that  O-Mitsu  would 
suffer.  So  he  saw  with  deep  relief  the  bear- 
ing of  his  officer,  so  different  to  what  he  had 
expected. 

In  scores  of  ways,  however,  the  lieutenant 
found  occasion  to  give  Soichi  a  taste  of  his 
quality,  and  it  was  apparent  that  Kokan  had 
been  informed  how  matters  stood  at  home. 
His  first  detail  to  guard  duty  brought  Soichi 
a  test.  He  had  had  time  to  canvass  the  whole 
situation  and  had  reached  his  decision.  He 
was  a  soldier  of  the  Emperor  and  war  was 
coming  on.  He  would  do  his  full  duty  always 
to  the  very  utmost  and  no  personal  distraction 
or  injury  should  deflect  him.  He  would  bear 
the  injustice  of  Kokan  without  complaint, 
hoping  only  to  win  release  by  an  honorable 
death  in  battle.  But  if  the  persecution  became 
more  than  he  could  endure  he  would  kill 
Kokan  and  himself. 

From  a  course  thus  deliberately  mapped  out 
he  was  not  the  man  to  be  easily  turned,  and 
so  he  was  ready  when  Kokan  came  by,  in- 
specting the  posts,  and  greeted  him  with: 

"So  hinin!"  (not  human,  outcast). 


the   Gmperor's  Wish  103 


He  brought  his  rifle  sharply  to  salute,  and 
held  his  head  erect  and  his  eyes  steadily  front 
as  if  he  had  not  heard  the  insult  or  the  instant 
correction  to  "  heimin"  (Commoner)  of  the 
cautious  lieutenant.  With  searching  eyes 
Kokan  looked  him  up  and  down,  examined  his 
rifle  and  equipment,  but  could  find  no  flaw. 
Then  he  demanded  the  orders  and  listened 
intently  as  Soichi  repeated  without  a  slip  the 
instructions  he  had  received.  With  a  sinister 
smile  the  baffled  officer  passed  on,  and  his  vic- 
tim knew  that  was  only  the  beginning. 

There  was  a  different  sort  of  smile  on 
Soichi's  face  as  he  thought  how  his  lieutenant 
had  tried  to  catch  him. 

"  If  he  keeps  that  up,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  it  will  make  me  the  best  soldier  in  the  regi- 
ment to  be  always  ready  for  him."  He  nearly 
laughed  aloud  at  the  idea.  "  I  might  even 
win  promotion.  How  angry  he  would  be  at 
that!" 

The  warning  was  valuable.  Soichi  kept 
himself  ever  on  the  alert,  but  in  his  heart  he 
began  to  despise  the  Samurai.  It  was  a  petty, 
dishonorable  trick  he  had  played,  saying 
hinin  and  then  correcting  himself.  Kudo- 
san  would  never  do  such  a  thing,  he  thought, 


104  •*#  >>**   Gmperor's  Wish 

and  how  O-Mitsu's  pretty  lips  would  curl  in 
scorn  if  she  knew.  There  was  compensation, 
after  all,  for  what  he  must  endure.  If  he  kept 
his  own  honor  unstained  Kokan  could  do  him 
no  real  harm. 

The  days  wore  on  with  many  little  strata- 
gems of  Kokan  to  catch  the  Commoner  nap- 
ping. But  Soichi,  always  vigilant,  escaped. 
The  endless  preparations  for  active  service 
hurried  along  and  there  began  to  be  talk  of 
the  regiment  being  moved  to  a  naval  base, 
ready  for  transport  oversea. 

Suddenly  from  end  to  end  a  great  hush 
fell  over  the  land.  It  was  as  if  the  nation 
were  crouching,  ready  to  leap  and  holding 
its  breath  as  it  waited  only  the  word  to 
spring.  War  had  come,  and  all  men  knew. 
The  gossip  ceased  that  had  filled  minds  and 
mouths,  and  men  went  to  and  fro  in  solemn, 
awesome  silence.  Still  there  was  no  outward 
show,  and  the  stranger  who  looked  on  with 
inexperienced  eyes  saw  only  the  old  round  of 
trade  and  work  and  cheerful  amusement,  with 
never  an  indication  of  the  dreadful  business 
at  last  undertaken. 

Then  came  the  first  sign.  From  mouth  to 
mouth  the  whisper  ran — the  Reserves  were 


the   Gmperor's   Wish  1 05 

summoned  to  the  colors.  From  never  a 
house  to  which  the  fateful  finger  pointed 
came  there  a  sound  of  grief  or  dismay. 
Gladly,  quickly,  but  in  silence  and  in  the 
night  the  men  responded.  In  twos  and 
threes  they  took  their  way  to  their  meeting- 
places  and  few  they  were  who  saw  or  heard. 
Town  and  city  wore  their  placid  air  of 
peace.  Even  the  winds  of  war,  that  had 
blown  so  roughly  over  the  land,  were  stilled, 
as  in  ghostly  stealth  the  nation  answered 
the  call. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  Soichi  found 
himself  in  full  kit  marching  swiftly  to  the  sta- 
tion. No  banners  waved,  no  bands  blared, 
no  trumpets  sounded.  No  throngs  of  eager 
friends  gathered  to  give  the  men  farewell. 
No  loyal  cheers  encouraged  them  and  urged 
them  to  duty's  task.  Through  empty,  silent 
streets,  between  houses  barred  and  darkened, 
in  the  hush  of  a  march  to  the  grave,  the  regi- 
ment passed  to  the  waiting  trains.  Noise- 
lessly the  men  climbed  into  the  cars  and  only 
the  hushed,  brief  orders  of  the  officers  broke 
the  stillness.  No  ring  of  bell  or  scream  of 
whistle  marked  their  departure.  Morning 

dawned  over  a  city  ignorant  of  what  had  been 
8 


106  j(t  the   Gmperor's  Wish 

done,  and  only  the  Reservists  coming  to  the 
empty  barracks  knew  that  the  forward  move- 
ment had  begun. 

In  the  corner  of  his  car  Soichi  threw  off  his 
heavy  pack  and  curled  himself  up  in  his  great- 
coat. Near  him  no  man  spoke.  In  silent 
peace  they  lay  wrapped  in  their  own  thoughts 
or  already  soundly  asleep.  Ahead,  toward  the 
center  of  the  car,  a  little  group  gathered 
around  the  glow  of  their  cigarettes  and  talked 
in  subdued,  but  excited  whispers.  So  they 
rumbled  off  down  the  road  through  the  dark- 
ness, headed  toward  War. 

With  a  tranquil  mind  Soichi  lay  in  his 
comfortable  corner  and  thought  of  what  had 
happened  and  what  was  to  come.  He  had 
no  fear  of  the  future.  His  only  anxiety  was 
lest  he  should  fail  unwittingly  or  his  oppor- 
tunity should  not  come.  He  belonged  to  the 
Empire.  It  had  made  him  all  he  was,  and 
now  that  it  needed  him  he  would  give  it 
cheerfully  all  he  had  of  muscle,  brain,  or  life. 
He  had  no  expectation  of  coming  back.  That 
day  he  had  written  his  parents  his  last  good- 
by.  He  calmly  and  fully  expected  to  die  on 
the  field,  and  was  concerned  only  to  make  his 
death  count  for  the  most  he  could.  He  won- 


Jft  the   Gmperor's  Wish  1 07 

dered  how  the  end  would  come,  and  hoped  it 
would  be  in  the  first  line  of  battle. 

Yet  not  all  the  men  would  be  killed!  He 
knew  that  in  the  last  war,  when  he  was  a  boy, 
only  a  few,  comparatively,  died.  By  far  the 
majority  of  them  came  back.  What  if  it  should 
be  his  fate  to  go  through  the  dangerous  trial 
and  come  out  unscathed!  The  human  heart 
within  him  leaped  at  the  thought,  and  his 
mind  came  back  with  a  start  to  the  letter  from 
O-Mitsu  he  had  received  only  that  afternoon. 
He  smiled  now  at  his  surprise  in  getting  it. 
He  had  not  thought  it  possible  that  she  could 
write  to  him.  In  his  inability  to  send  letters  to 
her  it  seemed,  of  course,  she  could  not  reach 
him.  He  had  even  thought  she  did  not  know 
where  he  was.  Kokan  must  have  written 
home  about  the  new  member  of  his  company 
and  unconsciously  given  her  the  information 
he,  most  of  all,  would  have  withheld.  Soichi 
laughed  at  the  thought  of  such  a  trick  for  fate 
to  play  on  the  imperious  lieutenant. 

There  the  letter  was  now,  safe  in  his  pocket, 
and  he  felt  again,  as  he  touched  it,  the  thrill 
with  which  he  had  read  her  good-by;  the 
simple  straightforward  statement  of  her  un- 
changing love  for  him,  and  how,  after  her 


108  jft  the  Gmporor's  Wish 

father's  discovery  of  his  letter,  there  had  been 
a  scene  of  terrible  anger ;  how  she  had  braved 
him  with  the  point  of  her  dagger  at  her  heart 
and  told  him  she  would  never  marry.  The 
man  for  her  was  a  soldier,  as  befitted  the 
daughter  of  a  Samurai,  and  now  her  soldier 
was  going  away  to  die  for  his  country  and 
hers.  So  then,  good-by.  He  was  a  soldier 
and  would  do  a  soldier's  duty. 

Yes,  he  would  do  a  soldier's  duty,  he  had 
no  doubt  of  that.  But  suppose  after  doing  it 
to  the  utmost  limit,  life  should  still  remain? 
Ah,  that  would  be  the  last  crowning  stroke  of 
cruel  fate.  Even  her  constancy  held  out  no 
promise  to  him.  The  honor  he  coveted  waited 
in  a  sable  cloak  on  some  unknown  battlefield. 
He  shut  his  heart  to  other  hope. 


„»» 


XII 

I  HE  winter  wind  whistled  drearily 
through  the  rigging  as  the  trans- 
port came  to  anchor,  and  the  men 
shivered  with  cold  in  spite  of  their 
heavy,  fur-lined  coats.  The  business  of  war 
was  begun  in  earnest  now,  and  Soichi  and  his 
fellows  bustled  about  the  ship  making  the 
final  preparations  for  debarkation.  At  last, 
with  kits  tightly  packed  and  every  article 
carefully  stowed,  so  that  nothing  should  be 
lost,  they  stumbled  down  the  gangway  and 
into  the  boats.  The  transport  lay  far  off  from 
the  shallow  beach  and  it  was  a  long  hard 
pull  for  the  shore.  A  great  bonfire  was  their 
beacon,  for  they  were  landing  late  at  night, 

109 


IIO  jft  the   Emperor's 


and  the  search  lights  of  the  war  ships  that  had 
convoyed  them  lighted  up  their  course.  With 
his  cap  pulled  down  on  his  head  as  far  as 
it  would  go  and  the  fur  collar  of  his  over- 
coat turned  up  about  his  ears,  Soichi  stood 
wedged  among  his  mates.  The  keel  touched 
and  into  the  icy  water  they  plunged  waist- 
deep  to  wade  ashore. 

That  was  but  the  foretaste.  They  stood 
around  the  fire  they  soon  had  blazing,  warm- 
ing their  aching  feet,  drying  their  clothes, 
and  talking  of  what  was  ahead.  They  had 
said  good-by  to  transportation.  Now  the 
miles  they  had  to  cover  would  be  made  on 
their  feet,  and  many  a  man  looked  ruefully 
at  the  heavy,  unaccustomed  boots  and  won- 
dered how  he  should  endure  the  march. 
Soichi  found  his  muscles  put  to  a  new  test. 
It  was  one  thing  to  drill  for  hours  in  the 
barracks  square  and  quite  another  to  march 
for  hours  along  a  frozen  road  carrying  his 
heavy  kit. 

It  was  bitter  cold,  far  colder  than  he  had 
ever  known  it  in  Japan,  and  the  big  fur-lined 
overcoat,  although  it  kept  his  body  warm, 
hampered  his  legs  in  walking  and  made  him 
very  weary.  It  was  with  the  utmost  effort, 


the   Gmperor's  Wish  III 

when  he  went  on  sentry  duty  after  a  hard  day 
on  the  road,  that  he  could  keep  awake,  and 
he  thought  regretfully  that  he  was  not  doing 
his  full  duty,  because  only  the  fear  that  Kokan 
would  catch  him  kept  his  eyes  from  closing. 

No,  it  was  not  at  all  like  barrack  life. 
There  the  rice  and  fish  and  pickles  were  al- 
ways ready  when  the  day's  work  was  done, 
but  often  now  they  had  to  wait  for  hours,  far 
into  the  night  sometimes,  for  the  big  kettles 
to  come  up  and  the  rice  to  be  boiled.  And 
now  there  was  no  sake.  Such  supplies  as  that 
could  not  keep  up  with  the  march,  and 
though  occasionally  some  of  his  comrades 
managed  to  get  a  bottle  of  beer  or  two  from 
some  terrified  Korean  as  they  passed  or 
camped  in  a  village,  Soichi  dared  not  risk  it. 
It  was  only  another  chance  for  Kokan. 

That  young  man  busied  himself  with  seem- 
ingly increasing  vigor,  watching  to  trap  his 
victim  in  any  slip.  But  day  by  day  he  saw 
Soichi's  own  prediction  being  verified,  and 
the  sturdy  young  fellow  becoming  always  a 
better  soldier,  until  other  officers  began  to  re- 
mark it  and  Kokan  was  obliged  to  conceal  his 
wrath  under  a  smiling  assent. 

They  left  many  weary  miles  behind,   and 


112  jft  the   Gmperor's  Wish 

now  excitement  began  to  grow  among  the 
men,  for  each  day  brought  them  perceptibly 
nearer  the  enemy  and  the  actual  clash  of 
arms.  Daily  the  rumors  from  ahead  grew  in 
size  and  portent.  The  scouts  were  in  con- 
tact with  the  enemy's  advance.  There  had 
been  a  brush.  The  first  shots  had  been  ex- 
changed, and  the  sight  of  two  or  three 
wounded  men  carried  by  on  stretchers  set 
the  whole  regiment  to  shouting  "  Banzai! " 
and  put  fresh  vigor  into  their  steps.  They  sang 
the  war  songs  they  had  learned  in  barracks 
back  in  Tokyo,  the  precentors  striding  along 
at  the  side  of  the  column  chanting  the  lines, 
and  the  whole  regiment  roaring  them  out  after 
the  leaders. 

They  were  going  over  the  ground  from 
which  the  men  of  their  regiment,  now  await- 
ing their  call  in  the  Second  Reserves,  had 
helped  to  drive  the  scrambling  Chinese  in  the 
war  that  had  been  the  forerunner  of  this  one. 
Every  day  brought  them  to  some  new  point 
of  interest  that  set  tongues  to  wagging  with 
increasing  volubility  and  gave  new  impetus 
to  the  march.  Each  night  the  kindly  surgeon 
looked  them  over  and  gave  a  helpful  bit  of 
advice  here,  and  a  friendly  word  of  warning 


the   Gmperor's  Wish  113 

there,  showed  how  to  bathe  and  bandage  the 
blistered  feet  or  massage  the  aching  limbs, 
added  sober  caution  about  the  use  of  water 
and  told  how  to  avoid  taking  cold. 

So  half  the  long  march  was  covered.  Far 
ahead,  they  knew,  was  the  wide  river  where 
the  enemy  was  expected  to  make  his  deter- 
mined stand.  There  would  be  their  first  battle, 
and  they  pressed  on  toward  it  eagerly  as 
toward  the  goal  of  a  life's  ambition.  But  one 
morning,  when  the  regiment  had  the  head  of 
the  column,  all  unexpectedly  the  sound  of 
rifle  fire  a  little  ahead  drifted  back  to  them, 
and  immediately  the  order  to  double  brought 
a  roaring  cheer  as  they  sprang  forward.  The 
enemy  had  made  a  dash  with  cavalry,  and 
the  advanced  guard  was  checked.  Up  they 
swept  with  flashing  eyes,  hot  for  the  fight. 
Through  Soichi's  brain  whirled  a  wild  vision 
of  a  charge  in  the  face  of  the  foe  and  the 
heavy  pack  grew  lighter  as  he  rushed  for- 
ward. But  it  was  no  charge.  Deployed  un- 
der cover  of  a  long  stone  wall  they  had 
barely  tasted  the  joy  of  using  their  rifles 
when  the  enemy  fled,  leaving  behind  only  four 
or  five  of  his  dead  to  mark  the  place  of  his 
defeat.  It  was  hardly  a  skirmish,  but  it 


114  •*#  M*   Gmperor's  Wish 

served  to  fire  the  blood  of  the  men,  and  se- 
renely they  promised  to  wipe  out  the  disap- 
pointment when  at  last  the  great  day  should 
come. 

The  winter  wore  away  and  spring  came  on. 
Still  they  were  tramping  steadily  toward  the 
river.  Work  was  much  easier  now  that  they 
had  settled  into  it,  and  they  made  more  miles 
with  less  waste  of  energy.  The  grass  turned 
green  in  the  valleys,  and  along  the  streams  the 
first  wild  flowers  put  forth  their  blossoms. 
Fur-lined  greatcoats  gave  place  to  wool,  and 
with  these  rolled  on  the  shoulders  instead  of 
flapping  about  the  legs  the  men  stepped  along 
lightly  and  gayly. 

Now  they  learned  a  new  exercise.  Hardly 
would  they  get  into  camp  before  half  of  them 
would  be  turned  out  for  instruction  in  field  in- 
trenchment.  The  short-handled  shovel  Soichi 
carried  strapped  to  the  side  of  his  knapsack 
was  not  very  large,  but  he  learned  how  to  dig 
a  wide,  deep  hole  with  it  in  remarkably  short 
time.  Morning  after  morning  as  they  moved 
on  toward  the  north  they  left  beside  their 
camp  ground  proof  of  their  work  in  samples 
of  the  different  kinds  of  trenches  they  might 
come  to  need  in  the  field. 


the   Gmperors  Wish 


They  saw  very  little  of  the  enemy.  After 
that  one  brief  clash  he  seemed  unwilling  to  ven- 
ture another  encounter  and  kept  out  of  the 
way,  except  that  now  and  then  a  little  group 
of  his  horsemen  appeared  for  a  few  minutes 
on  some  far-off  hill.  It  was  march  and  dig 
and  sleep,  and  do  it  all  over  again.  But  all  the 
time  they  were  nearing  the  river,  and  at  last, 
when  they  had  been  almost  two  months  on  the 
road,  they  came  to  the  range  of  bold  hills  that 
flanked  the  stream  and  concealed  the  enemy's 
country  from  their  view. 

Here  they  camped  several  days.  The  scouts 
and  advanced  guards  had  driven  the  Russians 
back  to  the  islands  in  the  stream  and  the  near 
shore  was  their  own.  But  before  they  could  go 
over  the  range  and  down  into  the  town  that  lay 
in  the  pockets  of  the  hills  on  the  river  bank,  an- 
other kind  of  work  was  to  be  done.  In  little 
squads  they  scoured  the  near-by  country  with 
axes  and  ropes  and  brought  in  great  bundles 
of  pine  boughs  from  the  scrub-covered  hills, 
and  piles  of  mats  and  long  cornstalks  from  the 
huts.  Then  at  night  they  crossed  the  hills  and 
flanked  the  river  side  of  the  road  with  tall- 
screens  which  shut  off  the  view  of  the  enemy's 
scouts  on  the  high  cross-river  ridges.  Where 


Il6 


the   Gmperor's  Wish 


the  way  led  straight  toward  his  camps  they 
built  huge  arches,  whose  broad  tops  made  a 
great  curtain  that  covered  the  road  entirely. 
Then,  sheltered  by  arches  and  screens,  so  that 
no  enemy  could  tell  their  strength,  they 
marched  on  into  the  town  and  were  quartered 
once  more  in  comfortable  houses.  Soichi 
dropped  his  pack  with  strange  exaltation. 
When  they  left  this  place  it  would  be  to  go  to 
battle,  and  perhaps  that  fight  would  bring  the 
opportunity  he  desired. 


XIII 

|T  was  ten  o'clock  the  second  night  in 
town,  and  Soichi  had  been  asleep 
in  his  warm  red  blankets  two  hours 
or  more  when  the  sergeant  shook 
him  awake  and  told  him  to  get  up.  He  was  to 
take  rifle  and  cartridge  belt  and  follow,  making 
no  noise. ,  In  the  darkness  he  joined  a  squad  of 
his  mates  and  saw  Omori,  Ito,  and  two  or  three 
others  of  his  friends,  all  equipped  as  he  was. 
Presently  an  officer  came  up  and  Soichi  recog- 
nized Kokan.  He  saw  the  lieutenant  give  him 
a  sharp  look,  and  heard  him  mutter  something 
he  did  not  understand.  Then  without  a  word 

117 


Il8  Jft  the   Cmporors  Wish 

Kokan  strode  away  and  the  sergeant  told  them 
to  come  on.  Nothing  had  been  said  of  the 
duty,  but  Soichi  knew  it  was  not  sentry-go 
and  guessed  they  were  going  scouting. 

In  silence  broken  only  by  the  muffled  foot- 
steps on  the  soft  earth  they  followed  Kokan 
to  the  river's  edge.  A  man  with  a  boat  was 
waiting  and  they  stepped  in  softly,  careful  to 
make  no  noise.  The  man  stood  up,  and  with 
his  long  oar  skillfully  and  silently  drove  the 
boat  out  into  the  stream. 

In  a  whisper  the  order  was  passed  to  load 
magazines,  but  not  to  fire  except  to  avoid  cap- 
ture. The  hard,  metallic  click  of  a  magazine 
spring  betrayed  the  haste  of  one  of  the  men  in 
shoving  his  cartridge  home.  In  the  ghostly 
stillness  it  came  like  the  crack  of  a  rifle  and 
brought  a  sharp  whisper  from  Kokan: 

"  Kutami,  was  that  you  ?  " 

But  Soichi  had  thought  of  that  and  muffled 
his  magazine  with  his  blouse  so  that  no  sound 
came  from  it. 

"  Even  here !  "  he  thought,  surprised.  "  Will 
he  forget  his  duty  to  think  of  me  now  ?  Well, 
he  shall  have  no  just  complaint." 

Softly  the  boat  came  up  to  the  bank  of  the 
island,  and  noiselessly  the  men  made  their  way 


the  Gmperor's  Wish  119 

to  land.  Then,  while  they  gathered  about  him 
in  a  ring,  Kokan  whispered  their  instructions. 
They  were  to  spread  out  and  endeavor  to  get 
by  the  Russian  outposts  concealed  in  the 
clumps  of  willows  that  dotted  the  island,  to 
work  across  to  the  next  stream,  note  the  width 
of  the  island  and  the  character  of  the  ground, 
the  number  of  the  outposts  of  the  enemy  they 
saw  and  their  position.  They  had  three  hours 
for  the  work.  At  the  end  of  that  time  they 
must  be  back  at  the  boat.  Any  who  did  not 
return  would  be  left  to  get  back  to  camp  as 
best  he  could.  They  must  estimate  the  time, 
and  in  no  case  strike  matches  to  consult 
watches.  Kokan  asked  each  man  if  he  under- 
stood, and  when  all  replied  that  they  did  he 
sent  them  away  one  by  one.  Then  he  himself 
started  straight  across  the  island  alone. 

Soichi  had  the  downstream  end  of  the  line. 
It  was  a  bad  time  for  such  work,  one  of  those 
blue-black  nights  when  the  stars  shine  with 
multiplied  brilliance,  and  the  white  sand  of  the 
island  was  a  dangerous  background  for  their 
dark  uniforms.  He  took  a  long  look  at  the 
heavens  to  select  a  guide  and  then  pushed 
away  from  the  bank,  and,  crouching  stealthily, 
walked  with  long  steps  directly  toward  a  single 


120           ^f/  the   Gmperor's  Wish 

willow  that  stood  a  few  yards  inshore.  There 
he  paused  and  took  stock  of  his  situation.  Off 
to  his  right  he  saw  dimly  a  dark  figure  crawl- 
ing across  the  sand.  It  was  one  of  his  com- 
rades, and  he  realized  what  a  telltale  his  uni- 
form was.  With  sudden  resolve  he  took  it 
off,  and  smiled  to  see  how  his  gray  flannels 
matched  the  sand.  Then  he  pulled  off  his 
boots,  and  with  only  his  rifle  and  shells  started 
on.  He  walked  upright,  with  the  rifle  held 
close  by  his  side,  and  moved  as  fast  as  he 
could.  His  soldier's  instinct  warned  him  to 
avoid  the  clumps  of  trees  and  bushes,  and 
from  tree  to  tree  that  stood  alone  he  worked 
his  way.  A  queer  fancy  struck  him  to  count 
his  steps  the  better  to  estimate  the  distance  he 
traveled,  but  he  soon  found  that  it  distracted 
his  attention  from  his  work.  So  he  changed 
his  plan,  and  at  each  pause  under  a  bush  cal- 
culated its  distance  from  the  last  and  mentally 
kept  the  sum  of  the  whole.  To  reckon  the 
time  was  the  hardest,  and  after  a  little  he  gave 
up  guessing  at  that.  He  would  do  his  work 
first  and  let  the  time  take  care  of  itself. 

Suddenly  as  he  sat  resting  and  thinking  un- 
der cover  of  a  thick  willow,  he  heard  a  sound 
that  seemed  close  at  his  left.  With  every  sense 


He  saw  dimly  a  dark  figure. 


the   Gmperor's  W/sA  121 

alert  he  gazed  in  the  direction  whence  it  came, 
and  waited.  Presently  it  was  repeated,  and 
now  he  recognized  a  man's  voice,  husky  and 
guttural  from  the  unsuccessful  effort  to  whis- 
per. He  lay  face  down  on  the  sand  to  muffle 
his  heart,  for  it  seemed  that  the  enemy  surely 
must  hear  its  beating.  Then  as  he  watched  he 
saw  a  match  struck  in  a  clump  of  willows 
scarcely  forty  yards  away,  and  presently 
caught  the  glow  of  a  lighted  cigarette.  Soon 
another  and  another  appeared,  and  then  their 
aroma  came  faintly  to  him  across  the  night. 
Three  men  awake,  he  thought ;  did  that  mean 
a  dozen  in  the  post?  He  wasted  no  time  in 
guessing,  but  flat  on  his  face  wriggled  away 
across  the  sand.  He  was  inside  the  line  of 
outposts  now,  and  when  he  had  crawled  a  long 
distance  and  put  some  bushes  between  himself 
and  the  men  he  had  so  nearly  run  into,  he  rose* 
and  walked  rapidly  forward. 

He  had  advanced  what  he  calculated  to  be 
nearly  a  mile  from  the  boat,  and  thought  he 
must  be  nearing  the  stream  he  was  seeking. 
The  ground  became  less  sandy  and  there  were 
fewer  trees  and  bushes.  He  thought  it  unlikely 
that  the  Russians  would  have  more  outposts 
there.  He  had  almost  concluded  to  make  a  run 
9 


122  jfo  the  Gmperors 


for  it  to  the  river,  when  a  rifle  shot  to  his  right 
and  behind  him  sent  him  flat  to  the  ground  in 
breathless  suspense.  Someone  had  been  dis- 
covered! Other  shots  followed,  and  then  a 
fusillade  that  sounded  like  that  morning  brush 
when  he  had  first  heard  fire.  He  crawled  to 
the  nearest  bush  and  lay  still. 

No  bullets  whistled  his  way  and  he  heard  no 
reports  from  the  rifles  of  his  men.  The  fire 
was  all  Russian,  and  he  hoped  it  was  only  a 
scare  and  that  his  men  had  got  away.  Then  he 
saw  that  the  firing  was  extending  toward  the 
river,  and  the  reports  of  Japanese  rifles  min- 
gled in  the  sound.  They  were  caught  back 
there,  and  his  heart  stood  still  at  the  thought 
that  the  success  of  the  night's  work  might  de- 
pend on  him.  From  the  direction  in  which 
the  firing  came  he  thought  the  Russians  must 
be  near  his  boat.  Perhaps  his  party  were  all 
cut  off  and  killed,  or  worse  than  that,  cap- 
tured. 

The  firing  ceased,  and  he  lay  under  his  bush 
and  wondered  what  to  do.  He  remembered 
that  he  had  not  yet  reached  the  river,  and  he 
rose  and  ran  swiftly  forward.  Soon  he  caught 
the  gleam  of  water,  and  in  a  moment  was  at  the 
bank.  He  lay  down  and  went  over  his  calcula- 


the  Gmperor's  Wish  123 

tion  of  the  distance  he  had  come.  Then  he 
looked  up  at  the  stars,  marked  out  his  course, 
and  started  back. 

He  knew  the  location  of  one  outpost,  and  he 
thought  at  first  his  best  chance  was  to  go  as 
close  to  it  as  he  had  come.  But  he  reflected 
that  all  the  sleeping  men  must  have  been 
roused  by  the  firing,  and  that  if  they  had  dis- 
covered the  boat  they  would  watch  to  see  if 
any  of  the  scouting  party  came  back  to  it. 
No,  he  must  go  another  way  and  swim  the 
stream.  But  he  wanted  his  uniform.  He 
dreaded  what  would  be  said  to  him  if  he  went 
back  without  it.  How  to  get  it  was  the  ques- 
tion. The  aroused  Russians  were  between 
him  and  the  bush  where  it  lay. 

The  fire  had  not  extended  much  to  his  right 
and  he  judged  that  the  line  of  outposts  did  not 
reach  far  that  way.  He  turned  sharply  down- 
stream and  moved  as  rapidly  as  he  dared.  At 
times,  when  the  way  was  open,  he  ran ;  but  in 
the  bushes  it  was  slow  work.  At  last  he  ven- 
tured to  turn  back  toward  his  own  shore. 
Cautiously  he  made  his  way  until  the  soft  lap 
of  the  water  on  the  bank  caught  his  ear.  Here 
was  the  stream.  Should  he  strike  in,  or  try  for 
the  uniform?  He  wondered  how  long  he  had 


124  ftt  the   Gmporor's 


been  on  the  island.  It  might  be  an  hour,  it 
might  be  two.  The  night  was  yet  far  from 
spent.  A  low  ridge  of  sand  ran  parallel  with 
the  bank,  shutting  the  stream  from  his  sight. 
He  moved  steathily  to  the  river  side  of  it  and 
made  up  his  mind  to  go  after  his  uniform. 
The  ridge  would  guide  him  to  the  bush  where 
it  lay,  and  if  worse  came  to  worst  a  quick  leap 
would  take  him  into  the  water  and  he  would 
trust  to  the  darkness  to  escape  the  Russian 
lead. 

At  first  he  walked  upright,  near  the  water, 
and  traveled  rapidly.  Then  as  he  approached 
the  point  where  he  judged  the  Russians  might 
be,  he  came  close  under  the  ridge  and  crawled 
on  hands  and  knees.  It  was  ticklish  work,  and 
the  rifle  bothered  him  badly.  Not  a  sound 
came  to  his  alert  ears.  By  and  by  he  wriggled 
to  the  top  of  the  ridge  and  peered  over.  After 
a  time  he  thought  he  could  make  out  the  wil- 
lows where  the  smokers  had  been.  His  own 
bush  was  not  far  off  now  and  he  crawled  on. 

A  new  thought  stopped  him  like  a  blow. 
Suppose  the  Russians  had  found  his  clothes 
and  were  waiting  for  him  to  come  for  them. 
That  was  a  matter  to  be  considered,  and  he 
pondered  it  seriously  for  some  time.  Then  he 


tho   Gmperor's  Wish  125 

went  on.  He  would  take  the  chance.  Keeping 
the  ridge  between  himself  and  it  he  crawled 
opposite  the  bush  and  lay  a  long  time  listening 
intently.  He  was  so  near  he  thought  he  could 
hear  the  breathing  of  any  man  waiting,  and 
knew  he  would  hear  a  movement.  Not  a  sound 
came  from  the  bush,  and  at  length  he  ventured 
on.  It  was  but  an  instant's  work  to  gather  up 
trousers,  blouse,  and  boots  and  scuttle  back 
over  the  ridge. 

One  foot  was  in  a  trouser  leg  when  he 
stopped.  The  river  was  wide  and  swift.  It 
would  be  hard  enough  to  swim  as  he  was,  and 
the  thick  uniform  would  hamper  him  terribly. 
He  thought  it  over  a  moment,  then  swiftly 
rolled  up  blouse  and  boots  and  tied  them  with 
the  trouser  legs  in  a  bundle  at  the  back  of  his 
neck.  Then  he  slung  his  rifle  across  his  back 
and  waded  in.  The  water  was  icy  cold,  but  he 
moved  slowly  lest  he  make  a  noise  and  arouse 
some  Russian.  He  was  up  to  his  waist  and  al- 
most ready  to  strike  out  when  an  unlucky  step 
brought  his  foot  down  on  a  stone  that  turned 
and  he  stumbled  forward  with  a  loud  splash. 

Instantly  there  came  a  hoarse,  Russian  shout 
from  up  the  stream  and  he  ducked.  As  he 
went  down  he  heard  the  loud  report  of  a  rifle 


126  jft  the   Gmperor's 


and  felt  the  wind  of  a  bullet  over  his  head.  He 
plunged  forward  and  swam  rapidly  out  and 
downstream.  Low  in  the  water,  with  head  as 
far  down  as  he  could  keep  it,  he  put  all  his 
strength  into  his  strokes.  Behind  him  the  Rus- 
sians along  the  shore  fired  as  if  charged  by  an 
army.  The  bullets  sang  over  his  head  and 
hissed  in  the  water  beside  him.  He  heard 
the  roar  of  the  rifles  and  the  shouts  of  the 
men,  and  tried  to  dive,  but  under  water  the 
bundle  and  rifle  held  him  back,  and  he  gave 
that  up. 

Gradually  the  firing  slackened,  and  when  it 
ceased  he  judged  by  the  current  that  he  was 
in  mid-stream.  He  was  very  tired  now,  and 
very  cold.  He  began  to  fear  he  could  not  get 
across.  But  the  thought  of  the  disgrace  of 
failure  after  all  he  had  done  nerved  him  for 
fresh  effort.  He  had  the  information  the  party 
had  been  sent  to  get,  and  it  might  be  that  none 
of  the  others  had  secured  it.  He  must  go  on. 
In  spite  of  his  exertion  the  cold  was  agonizing. 
His  bones  ached  from  it,  and  his  heart  was 
bursting  with  the  strain.  He  had  done  his  best. 
He  could  do  no  more.  The  bank  that  seemed 
so  near  was  yet  out  of  reach.  He  had  taken  his 
last  stroke.  No,  one  more,  and  now  another. 


Me   Gmperor's  Wish  12  7 

A  third,  and  his  feet  struck  bottom.  He  stag- 
gered out  and  fell  exhausted  on  the  sand. 

How  long  he  lay  thus  he  did  not  know. 
Aching  from  head  to  foot,  shivering  with  cold 
and  with  rattling  teeth,  he  struggled  to  his 
feet.  Somewhere  upstream  lay  his  goal  and 
he  reeled  toward  it.  Presently  the  walking 
warmed  him  a  little.  He  unslung  the  bundle 
from  his  shoulders  and  put  on  the  sodden  uni- 
form. Then  he  thrust  his  feet  into  the  boots 
and  went  on.  Dawn  was  breaking  when  he 
stood  at  his  captain's  door  and  heard  the  voice 
of  Kokan  saying : 

"  That  fool  Kutami  aroused  the  Russians 
and  we  could  not  go  on.  We  just  barely  got 
away.  He  spoiled  it  all,  and  probably  was  cap- 
tured as  well." 

Then  he  went  in  and  reported,  and  when  he 
finished,  heard,  like  a  voice  in  a  dream,  his 
captain's  comment : 

"  That  is  the  spirit  of  Yamato  Damashii! " 
(the  soul  of  old  Japan). 

He  turned  and  went  out,  with  Kokan  staring 
after  him  in  speechless  amazement. 


XIV 

j|HERE  followed  a  few  days  of  grate- 
ful inactivity  for  Soichi.  The  sur- 
geon said  he  must  rest  and  recover 
from  the  strain  and  exposure  of 
his  night's  work,  and  he  found  it  very  pleasant 
to  lie  in  his  blankets  and  smoke  and  receive 
the  congratulations  of  his  comrades.  The 
story  swept  through  the  regiment  and  every 
man  knew  what  he  had  done. 

Kokan  was  not  so  comfortable.  He  was 
suffering  from  a  mental  difference  with  him- 
self which  urgently  demanded  adjustment. 
But  pride  stood  in  his  way.  He  knew  he  had 
been  wrong  and  he  hated  to  admit  it.  His  ac- 
cusing self  kept  recalling  to  him  the  captain's 
128 


tho   Gmporor's   Wish  1 29 

queer  look  that  morning  after  Kutami  had 
gone,  when  he  turned  to  Kokan  and  said : 

"  I  am  inclined  to  think  you  are  mistaken 
about  him,  Lieutenant  Kudo ;  "  then  added,  as 
if  it  were  an  afterthought,  "  it  must  have  been 
someone  else  who  alarmed  the  Russians." 

"  Yamato  Damashii,"  the  captain  had  said 
to  Kutami,  and  it  was  true.  He  had  acted  with 
the  spirit  of  the  Bushi,  the  soldier  knights  of 
the  old  feudal  days.  With  the  bitterness  of  de- 
served self-accusation  Kokan  admitted  the  jus- 
tice of  Captain  Minami's  judgment.  He,  the 
Samurai,  had  failed,  but  Kutami,  the  Eta,  had 
succeeded. 

Soichi  was  lying  on  his  back  rereading 
O-Mitsu's  letter  for  the  thousandth  time,  al- 
though he  knew  it  already  by  heart,  when  Ko- 
kan came  in  without  his  sword.  He  sprang  to 
his  feet  and  saluted,  then  stood  at  attention. 
But  Kokan  said: 

"  Sit  down.  I  am  not  here  as  an  officer.  I 
came  to  talk  a  little  with  you." 

Surprised  and  curious  Soichi  obeyed,  won- 
dering what  it  could  be.  His  quarters-mates 
were  all  away  and  he  and  Kokan  were  alone. 
For  some  time  they  sat  silent,  the  lieutenant 
uncertain  how  to  begin.  He  had  had  a  hard 


130  Jft  the   Gmperor's  Wish 

struggle  with  himself,  but  his  sense  of  right 
had  triumphed.  The  last  of  the  Kudos  would 
not  stain  the  family  honor,  kept  spotless  for  so 
many  scores  of  years. 

"  I  blamed  you  unjustly,"  Kokan  said  blunt- 
ly at  last.  "  It  was  not  you  who  aroused  the 
Russians." 

"  That  is  nothing,"  replied  the  amazed  Soi- 
chi,  and  bowed  respectfully.  "  I  am  only  glad 
that  your  expedition  was  successful." 

He  cherished  no  animosity  toward  Kokan 
now,  and  it  distressed  him  to  see  his  lieuten- 
ant humbling  himself  in  this  manner.  He  had 
forgotten  the  things  that  had  passed  and  his 
mind  was  set  wholly  on  the  future.  His  only 
hope  was  to  die  gloriously  in  action.  But  Ko- 
kan had  made  the  plunge  and  now  he  was  go- 
ing through. 

"  I  have  been  unjust  to  you  at  other  times," 
he  went  on.  "  It  is  not  becoming  the  honor  of 
an  officer  or  a  Samurai  to  act  meanly,  and  I 
have  come  here  to  express  my  regret." 

Soichi  was  genuinely  pained.  His  ready 
sympathy  understood  how  hard  it  must  be  for 
the  haughty  Kokan  thus  to  demean  himself, 
and  he  responded  quickly : 

"  I  beg  you  not  to  think  of  it,  or  to  say  such 


Jft  the   Gmporor's  Wish  131 

things.  I  want  only  to  do  my  duty,  and  you 
have  helped  me  to  that." 

"  I  ? "  exclaimed  Kokan,  surprised  in  his 
turn.  "  I  helped  you  ?  Tell  me  how." 

"  Please  do  not  think  me  rude,"  replied  Soi- 
chi. '  "  It  is  hard  to  explain  to  you.  You  were 
born  a  Samurai  and  have  an  inheritance  of 
honor  to  maintain.  It  is  natural  to  you.  It 
comes  without  thought.  It  is  merely  to  live  in 
the  old  way.  I  was  born  a  Commoner,  but 
the  son  of  one  who  had  been  despised  as  an 
outcast.  The  Emperor  gave  us  citizenship. 
It  is  to  him  we  owe  everything.  To  win  honor 
is  our  first  duty,  for  surely  that  is  what  he 
meant  when  he  promoted  us.  Honor  lies  in 
his  service.  To  give  him  true  service,  there- 
fore, is  all  my  wish,  and  if  sometimes  I  have 
felt  that  you — that  someone  was  watching 
closely  to  catch  me  in  failure,  it  has  helped  me 
to  be  a  better  soldier,  and  perhaps  brought  me 
nearer  to  winning  honor." 

Kokan  sat  like  one  in  a  dream.  This  son  of 
an  Eta  was  telling  him  things  he  had  heard 
from  his  father  and  read  in  the  books  of  the 
Samurai  of  generations  long  agone.  It  was 
the  old  doctrine  of  the  Bushi,  but  he  spoke  it 
as  if  it  were  his  own  discovery. 


132  Jtt  Mff  Gmperor's  Wish 

"  You  talk  like  a  Samurai,"  he  said,  and  ris- 
ing abruptly,  went  away. 

He  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  soul  of 
honor  and  it  dazzled  him.  Here  was  honor 
for  honor's  sake.  No  other  thought,  no  con- 
sideration of  self,  no  hope  of  reward,  no  s'eek- 
ing  for  gain  of  any  sort,  the  simple  effort  of  a 
faithful  heart  to  show  in  loyal,  devoted  service 
its  gratitude  for  a  great  gift.  In  comparison 
with  the  high  standard  of  his  life,  the  teach- 
ings of  his  long  line  of  soldier  gentlemen,  it 
was  a  thing  of  wonder  and  amazement.  Many 
hours  he  pondered  it,  and  from  his  meditation 
rose  with  a  new  resolve.  The  service  of  the 
Emperor  had  profited  by  that  talk  with  the 
Commoner. 

Spring  was  full-blown.  The  sun  shone  with 
summer  warmth  and  fields  and  meadows  were 
clothed  with  green.  The  leaves  hung  thickly 
on  the  trees,  and  masses  of  rhododendrons 
robed  the  slopes  of  the  hills  in  pink.  Through 
all  the  army  ran  the  whisper  of  coming  action. 
In  the  afternoon  the  men  were  in  their  quar- 
ters. In  the  evening,  silently  and  swiftly  they 
moved  out.  They  bivouacked  for  the  night  in 
the  little  pockets  among  the  low  hills  close  to 


the   timperor's  W<*A  133 

the  water's  edge,  and  in  the  starlight  ate  cold 
rice  from  their  ration  baskets.  Then,  rolled 
up  in  their  blankets,  they  slept,  rifles  by  their 
sides. 

The  bark  of  a  gun  heralded  the  coming  of 
the  day,  and  the  men  rose  to  see  the  battle 
joined.  All  day  they  lay  in  their  hollows  and 
heard  the  hoarse,  angry  roaring  of  the  guns 
and  the  vicious  rush  of  shells,  as  if  a  mighty 
wind  beat  through  the  tops  of  a  forest  of 
pines.  Darkness  fell  and  the  guns  ceased 
their  frightful  clamor.  Then  came  the  order 
to  move. 

All  night  they  toiled.  As  if  by  miracle 
they  saw  the  pontoons  thrown  across  the  rush- 
ing streams,  and  the  lumbering  guns  swing 
forward.  In  the  soft  sand  of  the  islands  they 
put  their  shoulders  to  the  wheels  the  tired 
horses  could  not  turn,  and  on  the  cannon 
moved  into  their  new  positions.  The  murky 
gray  of  early  dawn  found  the  Russian  hills 
ringed  in  front  with  Japanese  steel.  The  day 
had  come  at  last  when  Kutami  Soichi  was  to 
meet  the  test. 

Fiercely  through  the  lifting  mist  rang  the 
challenge  of  the  guns,  and  over  the  heads  of 
the  Guards,  lying  far  out  on  the  sandy  island, 


134  *h  ***   Emperor's  Wish 

screamed  the  deadly  shells,  searching  the 
nooks  and  corners  of  the  Russian  lines.  Soichi 
was  in  the  first  line.  Across  his  breast  hung 
his  boxes  of  cartridges,  and  in  the  blue  cloth 
tied  over  his  shoulder  were  his  two  little  bas- 
kets of  rice.  His  rifle,  polished  and  cleaned 
with  arduous  care,  was  ready. 

For  half  an  hour  the  shells  flew  over  their 
heads,  and  then  along  the  line  rang  a  single 
shrill  blast  of  a  whistle.  Instantly  they  were  on 
their  feet  and  surging  ahead.  One  wild  "  Ban- 
zai! "  rolled  from  their  throats  and  they  set- 
tled to  their  work.  Suddenly  the  silent 
trenches  along  the  hills  leaped  into  life  and  the 
storm  of  Russian  lead  beat  upon  them.  Stead- 
ily they  went  forward,  not  a  rifle  making  an- 
swer to  the  fierce  fire  from  the  hilltops.  Men 
went  down,  but  only  those  stopped  who  could 
not  go  on.  Into  the  last  of  the  three  broad 
streams  they  plunged,  and  under  that  unceas- 
ing sweep  of  bullets  forged  across.  Then  on 
the  double  they  sprang  ahead,  while  above 
them  still  hurtled  the  venomous  messengers 
from  their  own  guns.  The  earth  shook  with 
the  concussion  of  the  cannon,  and  the  beauti- 
ful day  smiled  on  hill  and  river  red  with  war. 
Fairly  at  the  foot  of  the  Russian  height  they 


the   Emperor's   W/sA  135 

halted,  and  for  a  brief  breathing  space  stood 
still. 

At  the  left  of  the  line,  where  the  Guards 
were  to  charge,  the  enemy  held  the  crest  of  the 
ridge  with  a  double  line  of  trenches  terminat- 
ing in  a  square  redoubt.  There  were  the  red- 
mouthed  guns  belching  their  hail  of  iron 
death.  In  front,  on  the  slopes,  were  fences 
and  crisscrosses  and  tangles  of  wire,  winding 
in  and  about  among  traps  and  pits  and  jagged 
stakes,  and  swept  unceasingly  by  the  murder- 
ous fire  of  the  rifles  and  machine  guns  in  the 
trenches. 

Three  things  Soichi  knew  no  soldier  should 
remember  on  the  battlefield — his  home,  his 
dear  ones,  and  his  own  body.  Calmly  he  sur- 
veyed the  terrible  ground  over  which  he  was 
about  to  undertake  the  desperate  rush.  Up 
there,  on  the  heights,  were  the  lines  to  which 
some  of  them  must  go  through  to  plant  the 
flag  of  the  Rising  Sun,  as  the  Emperor  wished. 
He  wondered  who  would  be  the  one  to  win 
that  coveted  honor.  As  for  him,  this  was 
the  hour  in  which  he  was  to  die  his  "  glorious 
death." 

Almost  before  he  knew  it  the  whistle  shrilled 
again  and  they  were  off,  running  steadily,  in 


136  Jtt  the   Emperor's 


wide  open  lines,  straight  up  the  rugged  hill- 
side. They  cheered  once  at  the  start,  a  full- 
throated,  rousing  "  Banzai!  Banzai!  Teikoku 
Banzai!  "  but  it  took  too  much  breath  from  the 
running,  and  they  stopped,  that  the  work  might 
not  suffer. 

Now  as  he  raced  along,  the  young  soldier 
found  himself  curiously  taking  note  of  things 
occurring  around  him.  His  right-hand  man 
went  down,  and  Soichi,  seeing  him  fall,  knew 
that  he  was  dead.  There  was  one,  he  thought, 
who  had  gained  the  prize  of  glory.  It  seemed 
strange  that  he,  too,  was  not  hit.  And  there 
was  Lieutenant  Kudo,  perhaps  a  pace  ahead 
of  the  line,  running  as  hard  as  he  could  and 
somehow  finding  breath  to  shout  to  the  men. 
He  marveled  at  it,  and  with  mind  bent  on 
that  wonder,  ran  full  into  a  tangled  wire  that 
stopped  him  with  a  jerk,  almost  throwing  him 
backward  to  the  ground.  It  filled  him  with 
sudden  surprised  rage,  and  he  grasped  the  wire 
and  tugged  away  at  it  as  if  to  pull  it  away  by 
main  strength. 

All  the  time  he  heard  the  soft  voices  of  the 
bullets  flying  close  by  his  head,  the  little  half 
whisper  like  the  cheep  of  tired  chicks  nestling 
at  dark  under  the  protecting  feathers  of  the 


the  Gmperor's  Wish  137 

mother  hen.  The  wire  would  not  yield, 
though  all  along  its  length  the  men  had  laid 
hold  as  he  had,  and  were  putting  forth  all  their 
might.  As  he  looked,  Soichi  saw  a  line  of  his 
comrades  who  had  fallen  by  the  fence,  struck 
down  on  the  measured  range.  He  drew 
back  his  rifle  and  brought  the  sharp  bayonet 
down  on  the  wire  with  a  savage  swing,  all 
his  weight  in  the  blow.  Clean  to  the  ground 
it  went,  through  all  the  strands,  and  the  way 
was  open. 

On  he  dashed,  not  even  looking  to  see 
whether  any  followed.  Blindly  he  knew  that 
Kokan  was  near  him,  still  calling.  He  was  so 
tired  he  could  hardly  lift  his  feet,  and  yet  he 
kept  on  running,  running,  always  running  up 
that  death-swept  slope.  Now  the  men  knew 
the  secret  of  the  wires  and  there  was  little  de- 
lay. Soichi  heard  the  machine  guns  rattle  as 
he  had  heard  the  typhoon  rains  beat  on  the 
iron  roof  of  his  father's  warehouse.  The 
Russian  guns  sent  their  shells  shrieking  over 
the  slope  and  carrying  away  his  mates  in 
groups.  He  saw  men  fall  into  the  pits,  stum- 
ble and  throw  forward,  crumple  up  and  drop, 
go  down  all  about  him.  Still  the  prize  was 
not  his.  He  went  on. 
10 


138  Jft  the   Gmperor's  Wish 

Then,  without  warning,  the  world  came  to 
its  end.  The  whooping  and  whistling,  the 
shrieking  and  singing  of  shells  and  bullets 
ceased,  and  with  a  far-off,  muffled  roar,  the 
solid  earth  rose  beneath  him  and  hurled  him 
headlong  forward,  him  and  Kokan  together. 
He  wondered,  curiously,  as  he  was  in  the  air, 
if  it  were  to  be  the  trick  of  fate  that  he  and  the 
lieutenant  were  to  win  death  together.  Then 
he  fell,  and  for  an  instant  neither  saw  nor 
heard  nor  felt  nor  thought.  A  voice  calling  in 
tones  he  knew,  brought  him  back  to  himself 
and  the  riot  and  din  of  the  horrible  maelstrom. 
He  struggled  to  his  feet  to  hear  Kokan  shout- 
ing to  him: 

"  Come  on,  Kutami !  Now  show  if  you  can 
fight!" 

The  quick  blood  leaped  in  him  at  the  chal- 
lenge and  he  sprang  forward.  Over  his  shoul- 
der, as  he  turned,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
great  hole  where  the  mine  had  exploded,  and 
beyond  it,  down  the  slope,  he  saw  men  going 
back,  Guardsmen,  his  own  Guards !  The  hor- 
ror and  shame  of  it  filled  him  with  rage,  and 
he  began  to  run  again,  on  up  the  hill.  Some- 
thing was  the  matter  with  his  head,  he  did  not 
know  what,  nor  did  he  care.  He  and  Kokan 


jft  the   Gmperor's  Wish  139 


were  left,  and  if  all  the  rest  failed  they  two 
would  go  on.  He  shouted  in  answer  to  the 
lieutenant's  call,  and  strove  to  overtake  him. 
With  the  sword  of  his  fathers  flashing  over 
his  head  the  Samurai  boy  ran,  shouted,  stag- 
gered, went  down.  Of  all  the  charge  Soichi 
alone  was  left. 

Yet  he  went  on.  The  Russians  in  the 
trenches  cheered  him  and  held  their  fire,  too 
brave  themselves  to  murder  the  brave.  And, 
in  the  sudden  hush  that  fell  on  the  awful  day, 
Soichi  heard  Kokan  calling  again : 

"  Come  here,  Samurai !  I  am  wounded ! 
Take  me  back !  " 

Samurai !  Kokan  had  called  him  Samurai ! 
All  in  a  daze  Soichi  obeyed,  thrust  his  arms 
under  those  of  the  wounded  lieutenant,  heaved 
him  up  on  his  back  and  staggered  slowly  down 
the  hill.  He  walked  like  one  in  a  dream, 
neither  seeing  nor  caring  where  he  stepped, 
and  yet  by  miracle  not  falling.  And  when 
some  of  the  men  in  the  trenches,  more  ruth- 
less than  the  others,  fired  again,  he  shifted 
Kokan  in  front  of  him  lest  he  be  thought  to 
shield  himself  by  his  burden. 

He  was  halfway  down  when  suddenly  the 
trenches  burst  into  flame  once  more,  and  he 


140  Jf>  the   Gmperor's 


saw  his  Guards  coming  back.  The  reserves 
were  up!  The  charge  was  renewed!  Me- 
thodically he  looked  about  him,  found  a  pit, 
carefully  laid  the  wounded  officer  there  out  of 
danger,  wheeled  and  headed  the  new  assault. 
Oh,  how  tired  he  was!  How  hard  it  was  to 
keep  his  legs  from  doubling  under  him  !  And 
yet  he  must  !  This  was  the  day  he  was  to  die 
a  glorious  death. 

Back  again  by  the  mine-wrought  hollow,  the 
fresh  men  up  with  him  now,  and  some  of  them 
ahead.  One  he  saw  with  the  colors,  the  clear 
white  banner  with  its  broad  red  sun.  A  bullet 
hit  his  rifle  and  struck  it  violently  from  his 
hands.  He  paused,  confused,  and  saw  the 
color  bearer  pitch  forward  on  his  face  and  the 
colors  fall.  A  voice  seemed  to  shout  in  his 
ear: 

"It  is  the  Emperor's  wish  !  " 

He  sprang  forward,  grasped  the  staff  and 
waved  the  flag  over  his  head.  Under  the  aw- 
ful fire  the  line  was  beginning  to  falter,  but 
the  flag  caught  their  eyes  and  a  cheer  rang 
up  the  hill  behind  him.  He  filled  his  lungs 
and  shouted  "  Banzai!  "  It  was  as  if  new 
strength  came  to  him  with  the  call.  He  dashed 
on,  reached  the  wall  of  the  redoubt  and  scram- 


"  Banzai  ! '' 


the   Gmperors   Wish  141 


bled  up,  waving  his  banner  and  roaring  "  Ban- 
zai! " 

He  saw  his  fellows  swarming  about  him  and 
knew  they  had  won.  Then  something  struck 
him  a  terrible  blow  on  the  shoulder  and  he  fell 
unconscious  on  the  rampart. 


behind 


XV 

ijYlNG  on  a  board  in  the  field  hos- 
pital at  the  foot  of  the  hill  up  which 
he  had  charged,  Soichi  opened  his 
eyes  to  see  the  slow  sun  dropping 
ridge  across  the  river  they  had 
won.  The  long  line  of  carts  and  pack  horses 
filing  by,  told  him  the  victory  was  complete, 
the  transportation  was  coming  up.  His  head 
and  arm  and  shoulder  were  wrapped  with  ban- 
dages, and  when  he  turned  slightly  on  his 
hard  bed  a  sharp  pain  warned  him  to  lie  still. 
A  man  in  a  long  white  apron,  with  his  sleeves 
rolled  up  and  a  red  cross  on  his  arm  came  to- 
142 


the   Gmperor's   Wish  143 

ward  him,  and  he  recognized  the  spectacled, 
kindly  face  of  the  surgeon.  With  a  pleasant 
smile  the  doctor  looked  him  in  the  face  and 
touched  his  wrist  a  moment. 

"  You'll  do  now,"  he  said. 

Then  two  men  came  with  a  stretcher  and 
carried  him  to  a  soft  bed  of  blankets  in  a  big 
white  tent,  and  told  him  to  go  to  sleep.  It  was 
very  comfortable  in  the  warm  bed,  and  he  lay 
there  quietly,  trying  to  recall  the  events  of  the 
day.  After  a  little,  he  turned  his  head  slowly 
and  stared  into  the  eyes  of  the  man  in  the  next 
bed.  It  was  Lieutenant  Kudo. 

"  Oho,"  said  Kokan,  and  his  eyes  danced. 
"  It's  you,  is  it,  Samurai  ?  They  say  you  won 
the  charge." 

But  because  he  was  a  good  soldier  and  it 
was  the  order,  Soichi  calmly  closed  his  eyes 
and  went  to  sleep. 

Next  morning  stretcher  men  came  again 
and  carried  Soichi  and  all  his  tent  mates  into 
the  town  they  had  helped  to  capture  the  day 
before,  and  there,  in  a  fine,  big  room  in  a  solid 
house,  he  found  another  bed  of  blankets  ready 
for  him.  Kokan  was  not  with  them ;  the 
officers  had  a  different  hospital  and  there  the 
Samurai  boy  was  taken.  Wrapped  in  his  soft 


144  Jft  the   Gmperors   Wish 

blankets  Soichi  rested  and  dreamed  and  slept. 
One  morning  when  the  surgeon  came  to  see 
him  he  brought  some  officers  of  the  staff,  and 
one  of  them,  a  grizzled  colonel,  with  the  star 
of  a  great  decoration  blazing  on  his  breast, 
spoke  to  him  and  asked  his  name.  Soichi 
tried  to  stand  up,  as  was  proper  for  a  man 
answering  an  officer,  but  the  colonel  forbade 
him  and  he  lay  still.  Then  the  colonel  said 
in  a  loud  voice,  so  that  all  the  room  could 
hear: 

"  The  general  sends  his  compliments  to  Ku- 
tami  Soichi-san,  first-class  private,  and  grants 
him  a  kanjo  for  his  extraordinarily  gallant 
conduct  in  the  charge  of  the  Guards  and  at 
the  redoubt." 

Before  Soichi  could  think,  his  wounded 
comrades  were  shouting  "Banzai! "  the  griz- 
zled colonel  joining  with  all  his  voice.  For  a 
moment  he  could  not  speak.  He  was  over- 
whelmed with  the  unexpected  honor.  A  kanjo, 
that  certificate  of  merit  and  honorable  service 
more  dearly  prized  than  life  itself.  He  had 
never  dared  to  dream  of  winning  that.  The 
staff  officers  saw  his  confusion  and  smiled 
in  kindly  encouragement,  and  the  surgeon 
beamed  at  him  through  the  big  spectacles. 


the  Gmperor's  Wish  145 

He  lifted  his  head  a  little  and  tried  to  reply 
to  the  colonel. 

"  It  was  only  a  little,"  he  said  feebly ; 
"  nothing  at  all.  I  thought  it  was  the  Em- 
peror's wish ! " 

He  fell  back  on  his  blankets,  and  with  flash- 
ing eyes  the  staff  officers  saluted  him  and 
stalked  out  of  the  room. 

"  Ha !  "  said  the  colonel,  as  he  mounted  his 
horse,  "  there  is  a  soldier !  " 

His  comrades  were  miles  away,  daring  the 
Russians  to  renewed  conflict,  when  Soichi  had 
recovered  enough  to  walk  about  a  little  and 
write  to  his  father. 

"  I  had  hoped  to  win  a  glorious  death,"  he 
said  in  his  first  letter,  "  as  was  fitting  for  the 
first  Kutami  to  be  a  soldier  of  the  empire. 
But  now  I  have  received  this  honorable  kanjo 
and  I  am  happy  to  live  and  to  come  back  to 
see  you  and  my  mother  again.  I  shall  be  quite 
well  in  a  little  time,  but  my  service  is  ended. 
The  surgeon  says  my  rifle  arm  will  not  stand 
that  work  again,  and  a  better  man  must  take 
my  place.  I  tried  to  do  my  duty,  but  now  it 
is  finished. 

"  For  one  thing  I  am  very  glad.  Kokan 
and  I  are  friends.  We  are  coming  home  very 


146  «?f/  the    Gmperor's   Wish 

soon,  as  soon  as  we  can  travel,  but  Kokan  will 
return  when  he  is  quite  well.  He  calls  me 
Samurai  now,  and  says  I  '  won  it  with  the  re- 
doubt.' We  have  talked  much  about  the  old 
days  and  our  homes,  and  even  about  O-Mitsu. 
Perhaps  if  you  send  someone  to  ask  Kudo- 
san  for  her  now  he  would  not  refuse." 

It  was  a  different  letter  that  Lieutenant 
Kudo  sent  to  the  house  in  Timber  Street. 
Himself  he  spared  not  at  all,  and  in  long  de- 
tail told  the  story  of  the  midnight  scout  and 
described  the  day  of  battle. 

"  You  do  not  know  this  Kutami,"  he  said. 
"  He  may  have  the  name  of  an  Eta,  but  he  has 
the  heart  of  a  thousand  Samurai.  He  has 
taught  me  a  great  lesson.  O-Mitsu  will  be 
honored,  and  we  too,  if  he  still  wishes  to 
marry  her." 

When  Jukichi  read  the  letter  he  sat  a 
long  time  in  silence,  but  O-Mitsu  put  her  face 
in  the  cushion  and  wept  for  joy. 

Two  gray-haired  men  stood  together  on  the 
landing  watching  the  hospital  ship  swing  into 
her  moorings.  Together  they  stepped  down 
to  the  launch  that  puffed  out  into  the  bay,  and 
as  the  steamer's  anchor  rattled  down,  together 
they  stood  up  and  shouted  "  Banzai  I  "  To- 


the  Gmperor's  Wish  147 

gether  Jukichi  and  Chobei  climbed  the  gang- 
way to  greet  their  soldier  sons.  That  day  the 
Gentleman  had  accepted  the  Commoner's  pro- 
posal for  his  daughter,  and  in  the  house  in 
Timber  Street  a  happy  girl  was  awaiting  the 
return  of  her  lover. 


XVI 

|HE  period  of  "Little  Heat"  had 
come  and  gone.  Natsu-zemi  and 
Min-min-zemi  boomed  their  deaf- 
ening chorus  in  the  pines  about 
the  Shinto  shrine  and  the  rice  was  tall  and 
straight  in  the  myriad  fields.  The  kitsunichi 
(lucky  day)  had  come,  and  as  evening  fell, 
O-Mitsu  waited  in  her  pure  white  robe  the 
coming  of  the  friends  who  were  to  bear  her 
away  to  her  husband.  Presently  the  little 
group  set  out,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  house 
in  Azalea  Street  had  received  its  new  mistress. 
When  she  had  changed  to  the  beautiful  new 
dress  of  softest  silk  Soichi  had  given  her,  she 
sat  down  with  him  and  drank  the  san-san  ku- 
148 


ihe  Emperor's  Wish  149 


do  that  made  her  his  wife.  Three  times  from 
each  of  the  three  cups  she  sipped  the  sake  and 
passed  the  cup  to  him.  Then,  husband  and 
wife,  they  joined  the  friends  assembled  in  the 
wide  rooms  for  the  feast  that  crowned  the 
day.  And  among  those  guests  none  were 
more  honored  than  Kudo  Jukichi  and  his  son. 
The  proud  old  Samurai  had  taken  the  last 
step,  and  become  in  fact  as  well  as  in  law,  a 
citizen  of  the  new  Empire. 


(i) 


WORKS  OF  ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS. 


IOLE 

Colored  inlay  on  the  cover,  decorative  borders,  head- 
pieces, thumb-nail  sketches,  and  tail-pieces.  Frontispiece 
and  three  full-page  illustrations.  i2mo.  Ornamental 
Cloth,  $1.25. 

Does  anybody  remember  the  opera  of  The  Inca,  and  that  heart-breaking 
episode  where  the  Court  Undertaker,  in  a  morbid  desire  to  increase  his  pro- 
fes:3ional  skill,  deliberately  accomplishes  the  destruction  of  his  middle-aged 
relatives  in  order  to  inter  them  for  the  sake  of  practice  ? 

If  I  recollect,  his  dismal  confession  runs  something  like  this  : 
"  It  was  in  bleak  November 
When  I  slew  them,  I  remember, 
As  I  caught  them  unawares 
Drinking  tea  in  rocking-chairs." 

And  so  he  talked  them  to  death,  the  subject  being  "What  Really  Is  Art?" 
Afterward  he  was  sorry — 

"  The  squeak  of  a  door, 

The  creak  of  a  floor, 
My  horrors  and  fears  enhance  ; 
And  I  wake  with  a  scream 
As  I  hear  in  my  dream 
The  shrieks  of  my  maiden  aunts  ! " 

Now  it  is  a  very  dreadful  thing  to  suggest  that  those  highly  respectable 
pseudo-spinsters,  the  Sister  Arts,  supposedly  cozily  immune  in  their  polyga- 
mous chastity  (for  every  suitor  for  favor  is  popularly  expected  to  be  wedded  to 
his  particular  art) — I  repeat,  it  is  very  dreadful  to  suggest  that  these  impeccable 
old  ladies  are  in  danger  of  being  talked  to  death. 

But  the  talkers  are  talking  and  Art  Nouveau  rockers  are  rocking,  and  the 
trousers  of  the  prophet  are  patched  with  stained  glass,  and  it  is  a  day  of  dinki- 
ness  and  of  thumbs. 

Let  us  find  comfort  in  the  ancient  proverb  :  "  Art  talked  to  death  shall  rise 
again."  Let  us  also  recollect  that  "Dinky  is  as  dinky  does;"  that  "All  is 
not  Shaw  that  Bernards  ; "  that  "  Better  Yeates  than  Clever  ; "  that  words  are 
so  inexpensive  that  there  is  no  moral  crime  in  robbing  Henry  to  pay  James. 

Firmly  believing  all  this,  abjuring  all  atom-pickers,  slab  furniture,  and 
woodchuck  literature — save  only  the  immortal  verse  : 

"  And  there  the  wooden-chuck  doth  tread  ; 

While  from  the  oak  trees'  tops 
The  red,  red  squirrel  on  the  head 
The  frequent  acorn  drops." 

Abjuring,  as  I  say,  dinkiness  in  all  its  forms,  we  may  still  hope  that  those 
cleanly  and  respectable  spinsters,  the  Sister  Arts,  will  continue  throughout  the 
ap;es,  rocking  and  drinking  tea  unterrified  by  the  million-tongued  clamor  in 
the  back  yard  and  below  stairs,  where  thumb  and  forefinger  continue  the 
question  demanded  by  intellectual  exhaustion  : 

"  L'arr  1     Kesker  say  Parr  ?  " 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS,  NEW  YORK 


WHERE    LOVE    CONQUERS, 

The  Reckoning. 

By  ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS. 

The  author's  intention  is  to  treat,  in  a  series  of  four  or  five 
romances,  that  part  of  the  war  for  independence  which  particularly 
affected  the  great  landed  families  of  northern  New  York,  the 
Johnsons,  represented  by  Sir  William,  Sir  John,  Guy  Johnson,  and 
Colonel  Claus;  the  notorious  Butlers,  father  and  son,  the  Schuylers, 
Van  Rensselaers,  and  others. 

The  first  romance  of  the  series,  Cardigan,  was  followed  by  the 
second,  The  Maid-at-Arms.  The  third,  in  order,  is  not  completed. 
The  fourth  is  the  present  volume. 

As  Cardigan  pretended  to  portray  life  on  the  baronial  estate  of 
Sir  William  Johnson,  the  first  uneasiness  concerning  the  coming 
trouble,  the  first  discordant  note  struck  in  the  harmonious  councils 
of  the  Long  House,  so,  in  The  Maid-at-Arms,  which  followed  in 
order,  the  author  attempted  to  paint  a  patroon  family  disturbed  by 
the  approaching  rumble  of  battle.  That  romance  dealt  with  the 
first  serious  split  in  the  Iroquois  Confederacy ;  it  showed  the  Long 
House  shattered  though  not  fallen ;  the  demoralization  and  final 
flight  of  the  great  landed  families  who  remained  loyal  to  the  British 
Crown ;  and  it  struck  the  key-note  to  the  future  attitude  of  the 
Iroquois  toward  the  patriots  of  the  frontier — revenge  for  their 
losses  at  the  battle  of  Oriskany — and  ended  with  the  march  of  the 
militia  and  continental  troops  on  Saratoga. 

The  third  romance,  as  yet  incomplete  and  unpublished,  deals 
with  the  war-path  and  those  who  followed  it  led  by  the  landed 
gentry  of  Tryon  County ;  and  ends  with  the  first  solid  blow  de- 
livered at  the  Long  House,  and  the  terrible  punishment  of  the 
Great  Confederacy. 

The  present  romance,  the  fourth  in  chronological  order,  picks 
up  the  thread  at  that  point. 

The  author  is  not  conscious  of  having  taken  any  liberties  with 
history  in  preparing  a  framework  of  facts  for  a  mantle  of  romance. 

ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS. 
NEW  YORK,  May  26,  1904. 

D.    APPLETON     AND     COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


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